INTRA   MUROS. 


By  REBECCA    RUTER    SPRINGER, 

Author  of  "Beech wood,"   "Self,"   "Songs  by  the  Sea,"   "L'ebn,"  etc. 


David  C.  Cook  Publishing  Company,  Elgin,  111.,  and  36  Washington  Street,  Chicago. 


AUTHOR'S 

"he  pages  of  this  little  volume  contain 
ancy  sketch,  written  to  while  away  an 
idle  hour;  lout  are  the  true,  though  greatly 
condensed,  record  of  an  experience  dur 
ing  days  when  life  hung  in  the  balance 
between  Time  and 
Eternity,  with  the 
scales  dipping  de 
cidedly  toward  the  ; 
Eternity  side. 

I  am  pain 
fully  aware  of     , 
the  fact  that  I 
can    never     paint 
for     others     the 
scenes  as  they  ap 
peared  to  me  dur 
ing    those    wonderful    days.      If    I    can 
only  dimly  show  the  close  linking  of  the 
two  lives  —  the  mortal  with  the  divine  — 
as  they  then  appeared  to  me,  I  may  be 
able  to  partly  tear  the  veil  from  the  death 
we  so  dread,  and  show  it  to  be  only  an 
open  door  into  a  new  and  beautiful  phase 
of  the  life  we  now  live. 

If  any  of  the  scenes  depicted  should 
seem  irreverent  in  view  of  our  religious 

\,    Copyright,  1898,  by  David  C. 


PREFACE. 

training  here,  I  can  only  say,  "  I  give  it 
as  it  came  to  me."  In  those  strange, 
happy  hours  the  close  blending  of  the  two 
lives,  so  wrapped  about  with  the  Father's 
watchful  care  and  tender  love;  the  rc- 

union  of 
friends,  with 
the  dear 
earth-ties  un 
changed;  the 
satisfied  d  e  - 
sires,  the  glad 
surprises  and 
the  divine 
joys,  all  in 
tensified  and 
illumined  by 

the  reverence  and  love  and  adoration  that 
all  hearts  gave  to  the  blessed  Trinity,  ap 
peared  to  me  the  most  perfect  revelation 
of  that  "  blessed  life  "  of  which  here  we 
so  fondly  dream.  With  the  hope  that  it 
may  comfort  and  uplift  some  who  read, 
even  as  it  then  did,  and  as  its  memory 
ever  will  do,  for  me,  I  submit  this  im 
perfect  sketch  of  a  most  perfect  vision. 

R.  R.  S. 

Cook  Publishing  Company. 


ps 

J53 
P7 


"Shall  we  stop  at  that  poor  line,  the  grave, 
which  all  onr  Christianity  is  akvays  trying 
to  wipe  out  and  make  nothing  of,  and  which 
we  ativavs  insist  on  widening  into  a  great 
gulf  ?  Shall  we  not  stretch  our  thouglit 
beyond,  and  feel  the  life-blood  of  t/tis  lioly 
cJmrch,  t/tis  living  body  of  Christ,  pulsing 
out  into  the  saints  who  arc  living  there, 
and  coming  back  throbbing  wit/i  tidings  of 
their  glorious  and  sympathetic  lite  ?  " 

—  Rt.  Rev.  Phillips  Brooks,  D.D. 


INTRA   MUROS. 


CHAPTER  I. 


When  the  holy  angels  meet  us, 

As  we  go  to  join  their  band, 
Shall  we  know  the  friends  that  greet  us, 

In  the  glorious  spirit-land? 
Shall  we  see  the  same  eyes  shining 

On  us,  as  in  days  of  yore? 
Shall  we  feel  their  dear  arms  twining 

Fondly  'round  us  as  before? 

Shall  we  know  each  other  there? 

—  [Rev.  K.  Lowry. 

WAS  many  hun 
dred  miles  away 
from  home  an  d 
friends,  and  had 
been  very  ill  for 
many  weeks.  I  was 
entirely  among 
strangers,  and  my 
only  attendant, 
though  of  a  kindly 
•disposition,  knew  nothing  whatever  of  the 
duties  of  the  sick  room;  hence  I  had  none 
of  the  many  delicate  attentions  that  keep 
up  an  invalid's  failing  strength.  I  had 
taken  no  nourishment  of  any  kind  for 
nearly  three  weeks,  scarcely  even  water, 
and  was  greatly  reduced  in  both  flesh  and 
strength,  and  consciousness  seemed  at 
times  to  wholly  desert  me.  I  had  an  un 
utterable  longing  for  the  presence  of  my 
dear  distant  ones;  for  the  gentle  touch  of 
beloved  hands,  and  whispered  words  of 
love  and  courage;  but  they  never  came — 
they  could  not.  Responsible  duties,  that 


I  felt  must  not  be  neglected,  kept  these 
dear  ones  much  of  the  time  in  distant 
scenes,  and  I  would  not  recall  them. 

I  lay  in  a  large,  comfortable  room,  on 
the  second  floor  of  a  house  in  Kentville. 
The  bed  stood  in  a  recess  at  one  end  of  the 
apartment,  and  from  this  recess  a  large 
stained-glass  window  opened  upon  a  ver 
anda  fronting  on  the  street.  During 
much  of  my  illness  I  lay  with  my  face  to 
this  window,  and  my  back  to  the  room; 
and  I  remember  thinking  how  easy  it 
would  be  to  pass  through  the  window  to 
the  veranda,  if  one  so  desired.  When  the 
longing  for  the  loved  distant  faces  and 
voices  became  more  than  I  could  bear,  I 
prayed  that  the  dear  Christ  would  help  me 
to  realize  his  blessed  presence;  and  that 
since  the  beloved  ones  of  earth  could  not 
minister  to  me,  I  might  feel  the  influence 
of  the  other  dear  ones  who  are  "  all  min 
istering  spirits."  Especially  did  I  ask  to 
be  sustained  should  I  indeed  be  called  to 
pass  through  the  dark  waters  alone.  It 
was  no  idle  prayer,  and  the  response  came 
swiftly,  speedily.  All  anxieties  and  cares 
slipped  away  from  me,  as  a  worn-out  gar 
ment,  and  peace,  Christ's  peace,  enfolded 
me.  I  was  willing  to  wait  God's  time  for 
the  coming  of  those  so  dear  to  me,  and 
said  to  myself,  more  than  once,  "  If  not 
here,  it  will  be  there;  there  is  no  fear  of 
disappointment  there."  In  those  won- 


4  IN  TEA 

derful  days  of  agonized  suffering,  and 
great  peace,  I  felt  that  I  had  truly  found, 
as  never  before,  the  refuge  of  "  the  Ever 
lasting  Arms."  They  lifted  me;  they 
upbore  me;  they  enfolded  me;  and  I 
rested  in  them,  as  a  tired  child  upon  its 
mother's  bosom.  One  morning,  dark  and 
cold  and  stormy,  after  a  day  and  night  of 
intense  suffering,  I  seemed  to  be  standing 
on  the  floor  by  the  bed,  in  front  of  the 
stained-glass  window.  Some  one  was 
standing  by  me,  and,  when  I  looked  up,  I 
saw  it  was  my  husband's  favorite  brother, 
who  "  crossed  the  flood "  many  years 
ago. 

"My  dear  brother  Frank!"  I  cried  out 
joyously,  "  how  good  of  you  to  come!" 

"  It  was  a  great  joy  to  me  that  I  could 
do  so,  dear  little  sister,"  he  said  gently. 
"  Shall  we  go  now?"  and  he  drew  me 
toward  the  window. 

I  turned  my  head  and  looked  back  into 
the  room  that  somehow  I  felt  I  was 
about  to  leave  forever.  It  was  in  its 
usual  good  order:  a  cheery,  pretty  room. 
The  attendant  sat  by  the  stove  at  the 
farther  end,  comfortably  reading  a  news 
paper;  and  on  the  bed,  turned  toward  the 
window,  lay  a  white,  still  form,  with  the 
shadow  of  a  smile  on  the  poor,  worn  face. 
My  brother  drew  me  gently,  and  I  yielded, 
passing  with  him  through  the  window, 
out  on  to  the  veranda,  and  from  thence, 
in  some  unaccountable  way,  down  to  the 
street.  There  I  paused  and  Gaid  earn 
estly: 


MUROS. 

"  I  cannot  leave  Will  and  our  dear 
boy." 

"  They  are  not  here,  dear,  but  hundreds 
of  miles  away,"  he  answered. 

"  Yes,  I  know,  but  they  will  be  here. 
Oh,  Frank,  they  will  need  me  —  let  me 
stay!"  I  pleaded. 

"  "Would  it  not  be  better  if  I  brought 
you  back  a  little  later  —  after  they 
come?"  he  said,  with  a  kind  smile. 

"  Would  you  surely  do  so?"  I  asked. 

"  Most  certainly,  if  you  desire  it.  You 
are  worn  out  with  the  long  suffering,  and 
a  little  rest  will  give  you  new  strength." 

I  felt  that  he  was  right,  said  so  in  a  few 
words,  and  we  started  slowly  up  the  street. 
He  had  drawn  my  hand  within  his  arm, 
and  endeavored  to  interest  me,  as  we 
walked.  But  my  heart  clung  to  the  dear 
ones  whom  I  felt  I  was  not  to  see  again  on 
earth,  and  several  times  I  stopped  and 
looked  wistfully  back  the  way  we  had 
come.  He  was  very  patient  and  gentle 
with  me,  waiting  always  till  I  was  ready 
to  proceed  again;  but  at  last  my  hesita 
tion  became  so  great  that  he  said  pleas 
antly: 

"  You  are  so  weak  I  think  I  had  better 
carry  you;"  and  without  waiting  for  a 
reply,  he  stooped  and  lifted  me  in  his 
arms,  as  though  I  had  been  a  little  child; 
and,  like  a  child,  I  yielded,  resting  my 
head  upon  his  shoulder,  and  laying  my 
arm  about  his  neck.  I  felt  so  safe,  so- 
content,  to  be  thus  in  his  care.  It  seemed 
so  sweet,  after  the  long,  lonely  struggle,. 


INTEA   MUEOS. 


to  have  some  one  assume  the  responsi 
bility  of  caring  thus  tenderly  for  me. 

He  walked  on  with  firm,  swift  steps, 
and  I  think  I  must  have  slept:  for  the 
next  I  knew,  I  was  sitting  in  a  sheltered 
nook,  made  by  flowering  shrubs,  upon  the 
softest  and  most  beautiful  turf  of  grass, 
thickly  studded  with  fra 
grant  flowers,  many  of 
them  the  flowers  I 
had  known  and 
loved  on  earth.  I 
remember  notic- 
i  n  g  h  e  1  i  o- 
trope,  violets, 
lilies  of  the 
valley  and 
mignonette, 
with  many 
others  of  like 
nature  wholly 
unfamiliar  to 
me.  But  even  in  that  first  moment  I  ob 
served  how  perfect  in  its  way  was  every 
plant  and  flower.  For  instance,  the  helio 
trope,  which  with  us  often  runs  into  long, 
ragged  sprays,  there  grew  upon  short, 
smooth  stems,  and  each  leaf  was  perfect 
and  smooth  and  glossy,  instead  of  being 
rough  and  coarse-looking;  and  the  flowers 
peeped  up  from  the  deep  grass,  so  like 
velvet,  with  sweet,  happy  faces,  as  though 
inviting  the  admiration  one  could  not 
withhold. 

And  what  a  scene  was  that  on  which 
I  looked  as  I  rested  upon  this  seft,  fra 


grant  cushion,  secluded  and  yet  not  hid 
den!  Away,  away  —  far  beyond  the 
limit  of  my  vision,  I  well  knew, — 
stretched  this  wonderful  sward  of  perfect 
grass  and  flowers;  and  out  of  it  grew 
equally  wonderful  trees,  whose  drooping 
branches  were  laden  with  exquisite  blos 
soms  and  fruits  of  many 
kinds.  I  found  myself 
thinking  of  St. 
John's  vision  in 
the  Isle  of  Pat- 
mos,  and  "  the 
tree  of  life " 
that  grew  in 
the  midst  of 
the  garden, 
bearing  "twelve 
manner  of  fruits,  and 
whose  leaves  were  for 
the  healing  of  the  nations." 
Beneath  the  trees,  in  many 
happy  groups,  were  little  children,  laugh 
ing  and  playing,  running  hither  and 
thither  in  their  joy,  and  catching  in  their 
tiny  hands  the  bright-winged  birds  that 
flitted  in  and  out  among  them,  as  though 
sharing  in  their  sports,  as  they  doubtless 
were.  All  through  the  grounds,  older 
people  were  walking,  sometimes  in 
groups,  sometimes  by  twos,  sometimes 
alone,  but  all  with  an  air  of  peacefulness 
and  happiness  that  made  itself  felt  by 
even  me,  a  stranger.  All  were  in  spotless 
white,  though  many  wore  about  them  or 
carried  in  their  hands  clusters  of  beautiful 


rTRA   MUROS. 


flowers.  As  I  looked  upon  their  happy 
faces  and  their  spotless  robes,  again  I 
thought,  "  These  are  they  who  have 
washed  their  robes,  and  made  them  white 
in  the  blood  of  the  Lamb." 

Look  where  I  would,  I  saw,  half  hid 
den  by  the  trees,  elegant  and  beautiful 
houses  of  strangely  attractive  architec 
ture,  that  I  felt  must  be  the  homes  of  the 
happy  inhabitants  of  this  enchanted 
place.  I  caught  glimpses  of  sparkling 
fountains  in  many  directions,  and  close  to 
my  retreat  flowed  a  river,  Avith  placid 
breast  and  water  clear  as  crystal.  The 
walks  that  ran  in  many  directions  through 
the  grounds  appeared  to  me  to  be,  and  I 
afterward  found  were,  of  pearl,  spotless 
and  pure,  bordered  on  either  side  by 
narrow  streams  of  pellucid  water,  running 
over  stones  of  gold.  The  one  thought 
that  fastened  itself  upon  me  as  I  looked, 
breathless  and  speechless,  upon  this 
scene,  was  "  Purity,  purity!"  No  shadow 
of  dust;  no  taint  of  decay  on  fruit  or 
flower;  everything  perfect,  everything 
pure.  The  grass  and  flowers  looked  as 
though  fresh-washed  by  summer  showers, 
and  not  a  single  blade  was  any  color  but 
the  brightest  green.  The  air  was  soft 
and  balmy,  though  invigorating;  and  in 
stead  of  sunlight  there  was  a  golden  and 
rosy  glory  everywhere;  something  like  the 
afterglow  of  a  Southern  sunset  in  mid 
summer. 

As  I  drew  in  my  breath  with  a  short, 
quick  gasp  of  delight,  I  heard  my  brother, 


who  was  standing  beside  me,  say  softly, 
•'  Well?"  and,  looking  up,  I  discovered 
that  he  was  watching  me  with  keen  en 
joyment.  I  had,  in  my  great  surprise 
and  delight,  wholly  forgotten  his  pres 
ence.  Recalled  to  myself  by  his  question, 
I  faltered: 

"  Oh,  Frank,  that  I—  "  when  such  an 
overpowering  sense  of  God's  goodness  and 
my  own  unworthiness  swept  over  me  that 
I  dropped  my  face  into  my  hands,  and 
burst  into  uncontrollable  and  very  human 
weeping. 

"Ah!"  said  my  brother,  in  a  tone  of 
self-reproach,  "  I  am  inconsiderate."  And 
lifting  me  gently  to  my  feet,  he  said, 
"  Come,  I  want  to  show  you  the  river." 

When  we  reached  the  brink  of  the  river, 
but  a  few  steps  distant,  I  found  that  the 
lovely  sward  ran  even  to  the  water's  edge, 
and  in  some  places  I  saw  the  flowers 
blooming  placidly  down  in  the  depths, 
among  the  many-colored  pebbles  with 
which  the  entire  bed  of  the  river  was 
lined. 

"  I  want  you  to  see  these  beautiful 
stones,"  said  my  brother,  stepping  into 
the  water  and  urging  me  to  do  the  same. 

I  drew  back  timidly,  saying,  "  I  fear  it 
is  cold." 

"  Xot  in  the  least,"  he  said,  with  a  reas 
suring  smile.  "  Come." 

"Just  as  I  am?"  I  said,  glancing  down 
at  my  lovely  robe,  which,  to  my  great  joy, 
I  found  was  similar  to  those  of  the  dwell 
ers  in  that  happy  place. 


IXTRA   MUROS. 


"Just  as  you  arc,"  with  another  reas 
suring  smile. 

Thus  encouraged,  I,  too,  stepped  into 
the  "  gently  flowing  river,"  and  to  my 
great  surprise  found  the  water,  in  both 
temperature  and  density,  almost  identical 
with  the  air.  Deeper  and  deeper  grew 
the  stream  as  we  passed 
on,  until  I  felt  the  soft, 
sweet  ripples  playing 
about  my  throat. 
As  I  stopped,  my 
brother  said,  "  A 
little  farther  & 
still." 

"  It  will  go 
over  m  y 
head,"  I  ex 
postulated. 

"  Well,  and  what 
then?" 

"  I   cannot  breathe  under  the 
water  —  I  will  suffocate." 

An  amused  twinkle  came  into  his  eyes, 
though  he  said  soberly  enough,  "  We  do 
not  do  those  things  here." 

I  realized  the  absurdity  of  my  position, 
and  with  a  happy  laugh  said,  "  All  right; 
come  on,"  and  plunged  headlong  into  the 
bright  water,  which  soon  bubbled  and 
rippled  several  feet  above  my  head.  To 
my  surprise  and  delight,  I  found  I  could 
not  only  breathe,  but  laugh  and  talk,  see 
and  hear,  as  naturally  under  the  water  as 
above  it.  I  sat  down  in  the  midst  of  the 
many-colored  pebbles,  and  filled  my  hands 


with  them,  as  a  child  would  have  done. 
My  brother  lay  down  upon  them,  as  he 
would  have  done  on  the  green  sward,  and 
laughed  and  talked  joyously  with  me. 

"  Do  this,"  he  said,  rubbing  his  hands 
over  his  face,  and  running  his  fingers 
through  his  dark  hair. 

I  did  as  he  told  me,  and  the 
sensation  was  delightful.  I  threw 
back  my  loose  sleeves  and  rubbed 
my  arms,  then  my 
throat,  and  again 
thrust  my  fingers 
through  my  long, 
loose  hair,  thinking 
at  the  time  what  a 
tangle  it  would  be 
in  when  I  left  the 
water.  Then  the 
thought  came,  as  we 
at  last  arose  to  re- 
turn,  "  What  are  we  to  do 
for  towels?"  for  the  earth- 
thoughts  still  clung  to  me;  and  I  won 
dered,  too,  if  the  lovely  robe  was  not 
entirely  spoiled.  But  behold,  as  we 
neared  the  shore  and  my  head  once  more 
emerged  from  the  water,  the  moment  the 
air  struck  my  face  and  hair  I  realized 
that  I  would  need  no  towel  or  brush.  My 
flesh,  my  hair,  and  even  my  beautiful 
garments,  were  soft  and  dry  as  before  the 
water  touched  them.  The  material  out 
of  which  my  robe  was  fashioned  was  un 
like  anything  that  I  had  ever  seen.  It 
was  soft  and  light  and  shone  with  a  faint 


8 


INTEA    MUROS. 


lustre,  reminding  me  more  of  silk  crepe 
than  anything  I  could  recall,  only  infin 
itely  more  beautiful.  It  fell  about  me  in 
soft,  graceful  folds,  which  the  water 
seemed  to  have  rendered  even  more  lus 
trous  than  before. 

"  What  marvelous  water!  What  won 
derful  air!"  I  said  to  my  brother,  as  we 
again  stepped  upon  the  flowery  sward. 
"  Are  all  the  rivers  here  like  this  one?" 

"  Not  just  the  same,  but  similar,"  he 
replied. 

We  walked  on  a  few  steps,  and  then  I 
turned  and  looked  back  at  the  shining 
river  flowing  on  tranquilly.  "  Frank, 
what  has  that  water  done  for  me?"  I  said. 
"  I  feel  as  though  I  could  fly." 

He  looked  at  me  with  earnest,  tender 
eyes,  as  he  answered  gently,  "  It  has 
washed  away  the  last  of  the  earth-life, 
and  fitted  you  for  the  new  life  upon  which 
you  have  entered." 

"  It  is  divine!"  I  whispered. 

"  Yes,  it  is  divine,"  he  said. 


CHAPTER  II. 

O  City  of  Peace!  in  thy  palaces  fair 
Loved  faces  and  forms  we  can  see; 

And  sweet  voices  float  to  us  thro'  the  calm  air 
That  whisper,  "  We're  watching  for  thee!" 

E  walked  on  for  some  dis 
tance  in  silence,  my  heart 
wrestling  with  the  thoughts 
of  the  new  strange  life,  my 
eyes  drinking  in  fresh 
beauty  at  every  step.  The  houses,  as  we 


approached  and  passed  them,  seemed 
wondrously  beautiful  to  me.  They  were 
built  of  the  finest  marbles,  encircled  by 
broad  verandas,  the  roofs  or  domes  sup 
ported  by  massive  or  delicate  pillars 
or  columns;  and  winding  steps  led 
down  to  the  pearl  and  golden  walks. 
The  style  of  the  architecture  was  unlike 
anything  I  had  ever  seen,  and  the  flowers 
and  vines  that  grew  luxuriantly  every 
where  surpassed  in  beauty  even  those  of 
my  brightest  dreams.  Happy  faces 
looked  out  from  these  columned  walls, 
and  happy  voices  rang  upon  the  clear  air, 
from  many  a  celestial  home. 

"  Frank,  where  are  we  going?"  at 
length  I  asked. 

"  Home,  little  sister,"  he  answered  ten 
derly. 

"  Home?  Have  we  a  home,  my 
brother?  Is  it  anything  like  these?"  I 
asked,  with  a  wild  desire  in  my  heart  to 
cry  out  for  joy. 

"  Come  and  see,"  was  his  only  answer, 
as  he  turned  into  a  side  path  leading 
toward  an  exquisitely  beautiful  house 
whose  columns  of  very  light  gray  marble 
shone  through  the  green  of  the  overhang 
ing  trees  with  most  inviting  beauty.  Be 
fore  I  could  join  him,  I  heard  a  well- 
remembered  voice  saying  close  beside 
me: 

"  I  just  had  to  be  the  first  to  bid  you 
welcome!"  and  looking  around,  I  saw  the 
dearly-loved  face  of  my  old-time  friend, 
Mrs.  Wickham. 


INTEA   MUROS. 


9 


"Oh!  Oh!"  I  cried,  as  we  met  in  a 
warm  embrace. 

"  You  will  forgive  me,  Col.  Sprague," 
she  said  a  moment  later,  giving  her  hand 
cordially  to  my  brother.  "  It  seems  un 
pardonable  to  intercept  you  thus,  in  al 
most  the  first  hour,  but  I  heard  that  she 
was  coining,  and  I  could  not  wait.  But 
now  that  I  have  looked  upon  her  face, 
and  heard  her  dear  voice,  I  will  be  patient 
till  I  can  have  her  for  a  long,  long  talk." 

"  You  must  come  in  and  see  her  now," 
said  my  brother  cordially. 

"  Do,  do  come!"  I  urged. 

"  jSTo,  dear  friends,  not  now.  You 
know,  dear  little  Blossom,"  (the  old  pet 
name  for  me  years  ago)  "  we  have  all 
eternity  before  us!  But  you  will  bring 
her  to  me  soon,  Col.  Sprague?"  she  said. 

"  Just  as  soon  as  I  may,  dear  madam," 
he  replied,  with  an  expressive  look  into 
her  eyes. 

"  Yes,  I  understand,"  she  said  softly, 
with  a  sympathetic  glance  at  me.  Then 
with  a  warm  hand-clasp,  and  the  parting 
injunction,  "  Come  very  soon,"  she  passed 
swiftly  out  of  my  sight. 

"Blessed  woman!"  I  said,  "what  a  joy 
to  meet  her  again!" 

"  Her  home  is  not  far  away;  you  can 
often  see  her.  She  is  indeed  a  lovely 
woman.  Now,  come,  little  sister.  I  long 
to  give  you  welcome  to  our  home;"  say 
ing  which,  he  took  my  hand  and  led  me 
up  the  low  steps  on  to  the  broad  veranda, 
with  its  beautiful  inlaid  floor  of  rare  and 


costly  marbles,  and  its  massive  columns  of 
gray,  between  which,  vines  covered  with 
rich,  glossy  leaves  of  green  were  inter 
mingled  with  flowers  of  exquisite  color 
and  delicate  per 
fume  hanging  in 
heavy  festoons. 
We  paused  a  mo 
ment  here,  that  I 
might  see  the 
charming  view 
presented  o  j_ 
every  side. 

"  It  is  heavenly!" 
I  said. 

"  It    is    heavenly 
he    answered.     "  It 
could  not  be  other 
wise." 

I  smiled  my  ac 
knowledgment  of 
this  truth — my 
heart  was  too 
full  for  words. 

"  The  entire 
house,  both  be 
low  and  above, 
is  surrounded  by  these  broad  verandas. 
But  come  within." 

He  led  me  through  a  door-way,  between 
the  marble  columns,  into  a  large  recep 
tion  hall,  whose  inlaid  floor,  mullioned 
window,  and  broad,  low  stairway  at  the 
far  end,  at  once  held  my  fancy.  Before  I 
could  speak,  my  brother  turned  to  me, 
and,  taking  both  my  hands,  said: 


10  INTRA 

"  Welcome,  a  thousand  welcomes,  dear 
est  sister,  to  your  heavenly  home!" 

"  Ts  this  beautiful  place  indeed  to  be 
my  home?"  I  asked,  as  well  as  my  emotion 
would  allow. 

"Yes,  dear,"  he  replied.  "I  built  it 
for  you  and  my  brother,  and  I  assure  you 
it  has  been  a  labor  of  love.'' 

"  It  is  your  home,  and  I  am  to  stay 
with  you?"  I  said,  a  little  confused. 

"  Xo,  it  is  your  home,  and  I  am  to  stay 
with  you  till  my  brother  comes." 

"  Always,  dear  brother,  always!"  I 
cried,  clinging  to  his  arm. 

He  smiled  and  said,  "  We  will  enjoy  the 
present;  we  never  will  be  far  apart  again. 
But  come,  I  am  eager  to  show  you  all." 

Turning  to  the  left,  he  led  me,  still 
through  the  beautiful  marble  columns 
that  everywhere  seemed  substituted  for 
door-ways,  into  a  large,  oblong  room, 
upon  whose  threshold  I  stopped  in  won 
dering  delight.  The  entire  wralls  and 
floor  of  the  room  were  still  of  that  exquis 
ite  light  gray  marble,  polished  to  the 
greatest  lustre;  but  over  walls  and  floor 
were  strewn  exquisite,  long-stemmed 
roses,  of  every  variety  and  color,  from  the 
deepest  crimson  to  the  most  delicate 
shades  of  pink  and  yellow. 

"  Come  inside,"  said  my  brother. 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  crush  those  perfect 
flowers,"  I  answered. 

"  Well,  then,  suppose  we  gather  some 
of  them." 

I  stooped  to  take  one  from  the  floor 


MUBOS. 

close  to  my  feet,  when  lo!  I  found  it  was 
imbedded  in  the  marble.  I  tried  another 
with  the  same  astonishing  result,  then 
turning  to  my  brother,  I  said: 

"What  does  it  mean?  You  surely  do 
not  tell  me  that  none  of  these  are  natural 
flowers?" 

He  nodded  his  head  with  a  pleased 
smile,  then  said:  "  This  room  has  a  his 
tory.  Come  in  and  sit  with  me  here  upon 
this  window-seat,  where  you  can  see  the 
whole  room,  and  let  me  tell  you  about  it." 
I  did  as  he  desired,  and  he  continued: 
"  One  day  as  I  was  busily  working  upon 
the  house,  a  company  of  young  people, 
boys  and  girls,  came  to  the  door,  and 
asked  if  they  might  enter.  I  gladly  gave 
assent,  and  then  one  of  them  said: 

" '  Is  this  house  really  for  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Sprague?' 

"  '  It  is,'  I  answered. 

" '  We  used  to  know  and  love  them. 
They  are  our  friends,  and  the  friends  of 
our  parents,  and  we  want  to  know  if  we 
may  not  do  something  to  help  you  make 
it  beautiful?' 

"  '  Indeed  you  may,'  I  said,  touched  by 
the  request.  '  What  can  you  do?' 

"  We  were  here  at  the  time,  and  look 
ing  about,  one  of  them  asked,  '  May  we 
beautify  this  room?' 

" '  Undoubtedly,'  I  said,  wondering 
what  they  would  try  to  do. 

"  At  once  the  girls,  all  of  whom  had 
immense  bunches  of  roses  in  their  hands, 
began  to  throw  the  flowers  broadcast  over 


INTEA    MUROS. 


II 


the  floor  and  against  the  walls.  Wher 
ever  they  struck  the  walls,  they,  to  even 
my  surprise,  remained,  as  though  in  some 
way  permanently  attached.  When  the  roses 
had  all  been  scattered,  the  room  looked 
just  as  it  does  now,  only  the  flowers  were 
really  fresh  -  gathered  roses.  Then  the 
boys  each  produced  a  small  case  of  deli 
cate  tools,  and  in  a  moment  all,  boys  and 
girls,  were  down  upon  the  marble  floor 
and  busy  at 
work.  How 
they  did  it  I 
do  not  know 
—  it  is  one 
of  the  ce 
lestial  arts, 
taught  to 

these  of  highly  artistic  tastes  —  but  they 
embedded  each  living  flower  just  where 
and  as  it  had  fallen,  in  the  marble, 
and  preserved  it  as  you  see  before  you. 
They  came  several  times  before  the  work 
was  completed,  for  the  flowers  do  not 
wither  here,  nor  fade,  but  were  always 
fresh  and  perfect.  And  such  a  merry, 
happy  company  of  young  people,  I  never 
saw  before!  They  laughed  and  chatted 
and  sang,  as  they  worked;  and  I  could  not 
help  wishing  more  than  once  that  the 
friends  whom  they  had  left  mourning  for 
them  might  look  in  upon  this  happy 
group,  and  see  how  little  cause  they  had 
for  sorrow.  At  last  when  all  was  com 
plete,  they  called  me  to  see  their  work, 
and  I  was  not  chary  of  my  praises  either 


for  the  beauty  of  the  work,  or  for  their 
skill  in  performing  it.  Then,  saying 
they  would  be  sure  to  return  when 
either  of  you  came,  they  went  away  to 
gether,  to  do  something  of  the  kind  else 
where,  I  doubt  not." 

Happy  tears  had  been  dropping  upon 
my  hands,  clasped  idly  in  my  lap,  during 
much  of  this  narrative,  and  now  I  asked 
half -brokenly,  for  I  was  greatly  touched: 

"  Who  were  these  lovely 
people,    Frank?      Do    you 
know  them?" 


"  Of  course, 
I  know  them 
n o  w ;  but 

they  were  all  \^  *fr.  strangers  to 
me  till  they  *^*'  came  here 

that  first  morning,  except  Lulu  Sprague." 

"  Who  are  they?" 

"  There  were  three  Marys  —  Mary 
Green,  Mary  Bates,  Mary  Chalmers;  Lulu 
Sprague  and  Mae  Camden.  These  were 
the  girls,  each  lovely  and  beautiful.  The 
boys,  all  manly,  fine  fellows,  were  Carroll 
Ashland,  Stanley  and  David  Chalmers." 

"Precious  children!"  I  said,  "how  lit 
tle  I  thought  my  love  for  them,  in  the 
olden  days,  would  ever  bring  to  me  this 
added  happiness  here!  How  little  \ve 
know  of  the  links  binding  the  t\vo> 
worlds!" 


12 


INTEA   MUEOS. 


"Ah,  yes!*'  said  my  brother,  "that  is 
just  it.  How  little  we  know!  If  only  we 
could  realize  while  we  are  yet  mortals, 
that  day  by  day  we  are  building  for  eter 
nity,  how  different  our  lives  in  many  ways 
would  be!  Every  gentle  word,  every  gen 
erous  thought,  every  unselfish  deed,  will 
become  a  pillar  of  eternal  beauty  in  the 
life  to  come.  We  cannot  be  selfish  and 
unloving  in  one  life,  and  generous  and 
loving  in  the  next;  the  two  lives  are  too 
closely  blended  —  one  but  a  continuation 
of  the  other.  But  come  now  to  the 
library." 

Eising,  we  crossed  the  room  that  hence 
forward  was  to  hold  for  me  such  tender 
associations,  and  entered  the  library.  It 
was  a  glorious  apartment  —  the  walls 
lined  from  ceiling  to  floor  with  rare  and 
costly  books.  A  large,  stained-glass  win 
dow  opened  upon  the  front  veranda,  and 
two  large  bow-windows,  not  far  apart, 
were  in  the  back  of  the  room.  A  semi 
circular  row  of  shelves,  supported  by  very 
delicate  pillars  of  gray  marble,  about  six 
feet  high,  extended  some  fifteen  feet  into 
the  spacious  main  room  and  cut  it  into 
two  sections  lengthwise,  each  with  one  of 
the  bowed  windows  in  the  back,  leaving 
still  a  large  space  beyond  the  dividing 
line,  where  the  two  sections  united  again 
into  one.  The  concave  side  of  the  semi 
circle  of  shelves  was  toward  the  entrance 
of  the  room;  and  close  to  it,  not  far  re 
moved  from  the  bowed  window,  stood 
a  beautiful  writing-desk,  with  everything 


ready  for  use;  and  upon  it  was  a  chaste 
golden  bowl,  filled  with  scarlet  carna 
tions,  of  whose  spicy  odor  I  had  been 
dimly  conscious  for  some  time. 

"  My  brother  s  desk,"  said  Frank. 

"  And  his  favorite  flowers,"  I  added. 

"  Yes,  that  follows.  Here  we  never 
forget  the  tastes  and  preferences  of  those 
we  love." 

It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  these  de 
tails  were  at  once  noticed  by  me,  but  they 
unfolded  to  me  gradually  as  we  lingered, 
talking  together.  My  first  sensation  upon 
entering  the  room  was  genuine  surprise 
at  the  sight  of  the  books,  and  my  first 
words  were: 

"  Why,  have  we  books  in  heaven?" 

"  Why  not?"  asked  my  brother.  "  What 
strange  ideas  we  mortals  have  of  tho 
pleasures  and  duties  of  this  blessed  life! 
We  seem  to  think  that  death  of  the  body 
means  an  entire  change  to  the  soul.  But 
that  is  not  the  case,  by  any  means.  Wo 
bring  to  this  life  the  same  tastes,  the 
same  desires,  the  same  knowledge,  we  had 
before  death.  If  these  were  not  suf 
ficiently  piire  and  good  to  form  a  part  of 
this  life,  then  we  ourselves  may  not  enter. 
What  would  be  the  use  of  our  ofttimes 
long  lives,  given  to  the  pursuit  of  certain 
worthy  and  legitimate  knowledge,  if  at 
death  it  all  counts  as  nothing,  and  we 
begin  this  life  on  a  wholly  different  line 
of  thought  and  study?  N"o,  no;  would 
that  all  could  understand,  as  I  said  before, 
that  we  are  building  for  eternity  during 


1XTRA   MUB08. 


13 


our  earthly  life!  The  purer  the  thoughts, 
the  nobler  the  ambitions,  the  loftier  the 
aspirations,  the  higher  the  rank  we  take 
among  the  hosts  of  heaven;  the  more  ear 
nestly  we  follow  the  studies  and  duties  in 
our  life  of  probation,  the  better  fitted  we 
shall  be  to  carry  them  forward,  on  and  on 
to  completion  and  perfection  here." 

"But  the  books — who  writes  them?  Are 
any  of  them  books  we  knew  and  loved  be 
low?" 

"Undoubtedly,  many  of  them;  all,  in 
deed,  that  in  any  way  helped  to  elevate 
the  human  mind  or  immortal  soul.  Then, 
many  of  the  rarest  minds  in  the  earth-life, 
upon  entering  on  this  higher  life,  gain 
such  elevated  and  extended  views  of  the 
subjects  that  have  been  with  them  Iifc3- 


long  studies,  that,  pursuing  them  with 
zest,  they  write  out  for  the  benefit  of 
those  less  gifted,  the  higher,  stronger 
views  they  have  themselves  acquired,  thus 
remaining  leaders  and  teachers  in  this 
rarer  life,  as  they  were  while  yet  in  the 
world.  Is  it  to  be  expected  that  the  great 
soul  who  has  so  recently  joined  our  ranks, 
whose  "  Changed  Life  "  and  "  Pax  Vobis- 
cum "  uplifted  sp  many  lives  while  on 
earth,  should  lay  his  pen  aside  when  his 
clear  brain  and  great  heart  have  read  the 
mystery  of  the  higher  knowledge?  Not 
so.  When  he  has  conned  his  lessons  well, 
he  will  write  them  out  for  the  benefit  of 
others,  less  gifted,  who  must  follow. 
Leaders  there  must  always  be,  in  this 
divine  life,  as  in  the  former  life  —  leaders 


14 


IN  TEA   MUltOS. 


and  teachers  in  many  varied  lines  of 
thought.  But  all  this  knowledge  will 
come  to  you  simply  and  naturally  as  you 
grow  into  the  new  life." 


CHAPTER  III. 

"When    I    shall    meet   with    those   that   I   have 

loved, 

Clasp  in  my  arms  the  dear  ones  long  removed. 
And  find  how  faithful  Thou  to  me  hast  proved, 
I  shall   be  satisfied. 

—  [Horatius  Bonar. 

FTER  a  short  rest  in  this 
lovely  room  among  the 
books,  my  brother  took 
me  through  all  the  re 
maining  rooms  of  the 
house;  each  perfect  and 
beautiful  in  its  way,  and 
each  distinctly  and  im- 
perishably  photographed  upon  my  mem 
ory.  Of  only  one  other  will  I  speak  at 
this  time.  As  he  drew  aside  the  gauzy 
gray  draperies,  lined  with  the  most  deli 
cate  shade  of  amber,  which  hung  before 
the  columned  door-way  of  a  lovely  room 
on  the  second  floor  of  the  house,  he  said: 

"  Your  own  especial  place  for  rest  and 
study.''* 

The  entire  second  story  of  the  house, 
indoors,  instead  of  being  finished  in  gray 
marble,  as  was  the  first  floor,  was  finished 
with  inlaid  woods  of  fine,  satiny  texture 
and  rare  polish;  and  the  room  we  now  en 
tered  was  exquisite  both  in  design  and 
finish.  It  was  oblong  in  shape,  with  a 


large  bowed  window  at  one  end,  similar 
to  those  in  the  library,  a  portion  of  which 
was  directly  beneath  this  room.  Within 
this  window,  on  one  side,  stood  a  writing 
desk  of  solid  ivory,  with  silver  appoint 
ments;  and  opposite  was  a  case  of  well- 
filled  book-shelves  of  the  same  material. 
Among  the  books  I  found  afterward 
many  of  my  favorite  authors.  Rich  rugs, 
silver- gray  in  color,  lay  scattered  over  the 
floor,  and  all  the  hangings  in  the  room 
were  of  the  same  delicate  hue  and  tex 
ture  as  those  at  the  entrance.  The  frame 
work  of  the  furniture  was  of  ivory;  the 
upholstering  of  chairs  and  ottomans  of 
silver-gray  cloth,  with  the  finish  of  finest 
satin;  and  the  pillows  and  covering  of  the 
daint\  couch  were  of  the  same.  A  large 
bowl  of  wrought  silver  stood  upon  tlu' 
table  near  the  front  window,  filled  with 
pink  and  yellow  roses,  whose  fragrance 
filled  the  air;  and  several  rarely  graceful 
vases  also  were  filled  with  roses.  The  en 
tire  apartment  was  beautiful  beyond  de 
scription;  but  I  had  seen  it  many  times 
before  I  was  fully  able  to  comprehend  its 
perfect  completeness.  Only  one  picture 
hung  upon  the  walls,  and  that  was  a  life- 
size  portrait  of  the  Christ,  just  opposite 
the  couch.  It  was  not  an  artist's  concep 
tion  of  the  human  Christ,  bowed  under 
the  weight  of  the  sins  of  the  world,  nor 
yet  the  thorn-crowned  head  of  the  cruci 
fied  Savior  of  mankind;  but  the  likeness 
of  the  living  Master,  of  Christ  the  vic 
torious,  of  Christ  the  crowned.  The 


INTEA 

wonderful  eyes  looked  directly  and  ten 
derly  into  your  own,  and  the  lips  seemed 
to  pronounce  the  benediction  of  peace. 
The  ineffable  beauty  of  the  divine  face 
seemed  to  illumine  the  room  with  a  holy 
light,  and  I  fell  upon  my  knees  and 
pressed  my  lips  to  the  sandaled  feet  so 
truthfully  portrayed  upon  the  canvas, 
while  my  heart  cried, 
"  Master,  beloved  Master 
and  Savior!"  It  was  long 
before  I  could  fix  my 
attention  on  anything 
else;  my  whole  being 
was  full  of  adoration 
and  thanksgiving  for 
the  great  love  that  had 
guided  me  into  this  haven  of  rest,  this 
wonderful  home  of  peace  and  joy. 

After  some  time  spent  in  this  delight 
ful  place,  we  passed  through  the  open 
window  on  to  the  marble  terrace.  A 
stairway  of  artistically  finished  marble 
wound  gracefully  down  from  this  terrace 
to  the  lawn  beneath  the  trees,  no  pathway 
of  any  kind  approaching  at  its  foot — only 
the  flowery  turf.  The  fruit  -  laden 
branches  of  the  trees  hung  within  easy 
reach  from  the  terrace,  and  I  noticed  as  I 
stood  there  that  morning  seven  varieties. 
One  kind  resembled  our  fine  Bartlett  pear, 
only  much  larger,  and  infinitely  more 
delicious  to  the  taste,  as  I  soon  found. 
Another  variety  was  in  clusters,  the  fruit 
also  pear-shaped,  but  smaller  than  the 
lormei  and  of  a  consistency  and  flavor 


MUEOS.  15 

similar  to  the  finest  frozen  cream.  A 
third,  something  like  a  banana  in  shape, 
they  called  bread-fruit;  it  was  not  unlike 
our  dainty  finger-rolls  to  the  taste.  It 
seemed  to  me  at  the  time,  and  really 
proved  to  be  so,  that  in  variety  and  excel 
lence,  food  for  the  most  elegant  repast 
was  here  provided  without  labor  or  care. 
My  brother  gathered  some 
of  the  different  varieties 
and  bade  me  try  them.  I 
did  so  with  much  rel 
ish  and  refreshment. 
Once  the  rich  juice 
from  the  pear  -  like 
fruit  (whose  distinc 
tive  name  I  have  forgotten,  if 
indeed  I  ever  knew  it,)  ran  out  profusely 
over  my  hands  and  the  front  of  my  dress. 
"  Oh!"  I  cried,  "  I  have  ruined  my  dress, 
I  fear!" 

My  brother  laughed  genially,  as  he  said, 
"  Show  me  the  stains." 

To  my  amazement  not  a  spot  could  I 
find. 

"  Look  at  your  hands,"  he  said. 
I    found    them    clean    and    fresh,    as 
though  just  from  the  bath. 

"  What  does  it  mean  ?  My  hands  were 
covered  with  the  thick  juice  of  the  fruit." 
"  Simply,"  ho  answered,  "  that  no  im 
purity  can  renic..  for  an  instant  in  this 
air.  Xothing  decays,  nothing  tarnishes, 
or  in  any  way  disfigures  or  mars  the  uni 
versal  purity  or  beauty  of  the  place.  As 
fast  as  the  fruit  ripens  and  falls,  all  that 


16  INTEA   MUROS. 

is  not  immediately  gathered  at  once 
evaporates,  not  even  the  seed  remain 
ing.  " 

I  had  noticed  that  no  fruit  lay  beneath 
the  trees  —  this,  then,  was  the  reason  for 


"  '  And  there  shall  in  no  wise  enter  into 
it  anything  that  defileth,' "  I  quoted 
thoughtfully. 

"  Yes,  even  so,"  he  answered;  "  even 
so/' 

We  descended  the  steps  and  again  en 
tered  the  "  flower-room."  As  I  stood 
once  more  admiring  the  inlaid  roses,  my 
brother  asked: 

"  Whom,  of  all  the  friends  you  have  in 
heaven,  do  you  most  wish  to  see?" 

"  My  father  and  mother,"  I  answered 
quickly. 

He  smiled  so  significantly  that  I  hastily 
turned,  and  there,  advancing  up  the  long 
room  to  meet  me,  I  saw  my  dear  father 
and  mother,  and  with  them  my  youngest 
sister.  With  a  cry  of  joy,  I  flew  into  my 
father's  outstretched  arms,  and  heard, 
with  a  thrill  of  joy,  his  dear,  familiar 
"  My  precious  little  daughter!" 

"At  last!  at  last!"  I  cried,  clinging  to 
him.  "  At  last  I  have  you  again!" 

"  At  last!"  he  echoed,  with  a  deep- 
drawn  breath  of  joy.  Then  he  resigned 
me  to  my  dear  mother,  and  we  were  soon 
clasped  in  each  other's  embrace. 

"  My  precious  mother!"  "  My  dear, 
dear  child!"  we  cried  simultaneously;  and 
my  sister,  enfolding  us  both  in  her  arms, 


exclaimed  with  a  happy  laugh,  "  I  can 
not  wait!  I  will  not  be  left  outside!"  and 
disengaging  one  arm,  I  threw  it  about  her 
neck,  and  drew  her  into  the  happy  circle 
of  our  united  love. 

Oh,  what  an  hour  was  that!  I  did  not 
dream  that  even  heaven  could  hold  such 
joy.  After  a  time  my  brother,  who  had 
shared  our  joy,  said: 

"  Now,  I  can  safely  leave  you  for  a  few 
hours  to  this  blessed  reunion,  for  I  have 
other  work  before  me." 

"  Yes,"  said  my  father,  "  you  must  go. 
We  will  with  joy  take  charge  of  our  dear 
child." 

"  Then  for  a  brief  while  good-by,"  said 
my  brother  kindly.  "  Do  not  forget  that 
rest,  especially  to  one  but  recently  en 
tered  upon  the  new  life,  is  not  only  one  of 
the  pleasures,  but  one  of  the  duties  of 
heaven." 

"  Yes,  we  will  see  she  does  not  forget 
that,"  said  my  father,  with  a  kindly  smile 
and  glance. 

CHAPTER  IV. 

O  joys  that  are  pone,  will  you  ever  return 

To  gladden  our  hearts  as  of  yore? 
Will    we    find    you    awaiting    us,    some    happy 
morn, 

When  we  drift  to  Eternity's  shore? 
Will  dear  eyes  meet  our  own,  as  in  days  that 
are  past? 

Will  we  thrill  at  the  touch  of  a  hand? 
O  joys  that  are  gone,  will  we  find  you  at  last 

On  the  shores  of  that  wonderful  land? 

OON  after  my  brother's  departure  my 

mother  said,  grasping  my  hand: 
"  Come,  I  am  eager  to  have  you  in  our 


INTEA   MVEOS. 


17 


own  home;"  and  we  all  passed  out  of  the 
rear  entrance,  walked  a  few  hundred  yards 
across  the  soft  turf,  and  entered  a  lovely 
home,  somewhat  similar  to  our  own,  yet 
still  unlike  it  in  many  details.  It  also  was 
built  of  marble,  but  darker  than  that  of 
my  brother's  home.  Every 
room  spoke  of  modest  refine 
ment  and  cultivated  taste,  and 
the  home  air  about  it  was  at  once 
delightfully  perceptible.  My 
father's  study  was  on  the  sec 
ond  floor,  and  the  first  thing  I 
noticed  on  entering  was  the 
luxuriant  branches  and  flow 
ers  of  an  old-fashioned  hun 
dred-leafed  rose  tree,  that 
covered  the  window  by  his 
desk. 

"Ah!"  I  cried,  "I  can  al 
most  imagine  myself  in  your 
old  study  at  home,  when  I 
look  at  that  window." 

"  Is  it  not  a  reminder?"  he 
said,  laughing  happily.    "  I  al 
most  think  sometimes  it  is  the  same  dear 
old  bush,  transplanted  here." 

"  And  it  is  still  your  favorite  flower?" 
I  queried. 

He  nodded  his  head,  and  said,  smil 
ing: 

"  I  see  you  remember  still  the  child 
hood  days."  And  he  patted  my  cheek 
as  I  gathered  a  rose  and  fastened  it  upon 
his  breast. 

"  It  seems  to  me  this  ought  to  be  your 


home,  dear;  it  is  our  father's  home,"  said 
my  sister  wistfully.  -.j* 

"  Nay,"  my  father  quickly  interposed. 
"  Col.  Sprague  is  her  legitimate  guardian 
and  instructor.  It  is  a  wise  and  admir 
able  arrangement.  He  is  in  every  way 
the  most  suitable  instructor  she 
could  possibly  have.  Our  Father 
never  errs." 

s        "  Is    not    my    brother's    a 
lovely  character?"  I  asked. 

"  Lovely    indeed;    and    he 
tands  very  near  to  the  Master. 
?ew  have  a  clearer  knowledge  of 
the  Divine  Will,  hence  few  are 
better  fitted  for  instructors. 
But  I,  too,  have  duties  that 
call    me    for    a   time   away. 
How  blessed  to  know  there 
can    never    again    be    long 
separations!     You  will  have 
two  homes  now,  dear  child 
—  your  own  and  ours." 

"Yes,  yes!"  I  said.  "I 
shall  be  here,  I  suspect,  al 
most  as  much  as  there." 
At  this  moment  a  swift  messen 
ger  approached  my  father  and  spoke  a  few 
low  words. 

"  Yes,  I  shall  go  at  once,"  he  replied, 
and,  waving  his  hand  in  adieu,  departed 
with  the  angelic  guide. 

"  Where  do  my  father's  duties  mostly 
lie?"  I  asked  my  mother. 

"  He  is  called  usually  to  those  who  en 
ter  life  with  little  preparation  —  that 


18  INTRA 

which  on  earth  we  call  death-bed  repent 
ance.  You  know  what  wonderful  success 
he  always  had  in  winning  souls  to  Christ; 
and  these  poor  spirits  need  to  be  taught 
from  the  very  beginning.  They  enter  the 
spirit-life  in  its  lowest  phase,  and  it  is 
your  father's  pleasant  duty  to  lead  them 
upward  step  by  step.  He  is  devoted  to 
his  work  and  greatly  beloved  by  those 
he  thus  helps.  He  allows  me  to  often  ac 
company  him  and  labor  with  him,  and 
that  is  such  a  pleasure  to  me!  And  do 
you  know "  —  with  an  indescribable 
look  of  happiness  —  "I  forget  nothing 
now!'' 

It  had  been  her  great  burden,  for  some 
years  before  her  death,  that  memory 
failed  her  sadly,  and  I  could  understand 
and  sympathize  with  her  present  delight. 

"  Dear  heart!''  I  cried,  folding  my  arms 
tenderly  about  her,  "  then  it  is  like  the 
early  years  of  your  married  life  again?" 

"  Precisely,"  she  answered  joyously. 

A  little  later  my  sister  drew  me  ten 
derly  aside  and  whispered,  "  Tell  me  of 
my  boy,  of  my  precious  son.  I  often 
see  him;  but  we  are  not  permitted  to 
know  as  much  always  of  the  earthly  life 
as  we  once  believed  we  should.  The 
Father's  tender  wisdom  metes  out  to  us 
the  knowledge  he  sees  is  best,  and  we  are 
content  to  wait  his  time  for  more.  All 
you  can  tell  would  not  be  denied  me.  Is 
he  surely,  surely  coming  to  me  sometime? 
Shall  I  hold  him  again  in  my  arms,  my 
darling  boy?" 


MUEOS. 

"  I  am  sure  —  yes,  I  am  sure  you  will. 
Your  memory  is  very  precious  to  him." 

Then  I  told  her  all  I  could  recall  of  the 
son  with  whom  she  had  parted  while  he 
was  but  a  child  —  now  grown  to  man's 
estate,  honored  and  loved,  with  home  and 
wife  and  son  to  comfort  and  bless  him. 

"  Then  I  can  wait,"  she  said,  "  if  he  is 
sure  to  come  to  me  at  last,  when  his 
earthly  work  is  done,  bringing  his  wife 
and  son.  How  I  shall  love  them  too!" 

At  this  moment  I  felt  myself  encircled 
by  tender  arms,  and  a  hand  was  gently 
laid  on  my  eyes. 

"Who  is  it?"  some  one  whispered 
softly. 

"  Oh,  I  know  the  voice,  the  touch!  — 
dearest,  dearest  Xell!"  I  cried,  and,  turn 
ing  quickly,   threw   my   arms  about   the 
neck  of  my  only  brother. 

He  gathered  me  a  moment  warmly  to 
his  heart,  then  in  his  old-time  playful 
way  lifted  me  quite  off  my  feet  in  his 
strong  arms,  saying: 

"  She  has  not  grown  an  inch;  and  is 
not,  I  believe,  a  day  older  than  when  we 
last  parted!  Is  she,  Joe?"  turning  to  our 
sister. 

"  It  does  not  seem  so,"  said  my  sister, 
"  but  I  thought  she  would  never  come." 

"Trust  her  for  that!"  he  said.  "  Hut 
come,  now;  they  have  had  you  long 
enough  for  the  first  visit  —  the  rest  of  us 
want  you  for  awhile.  Come  with  us, 
Jodie.  Mother,  I  may  have  them  both 
for  a  little  time,  may  I  not?  or  will  you 


INTRA   MUEOS. 


19 


conic,  too?"  turning  to  our  mother  with  a 
caressing  touch. 

"  I  cannot  go,  dear  boy;  I  must  be  here 
when  your  father  returns.  Take  your 
sisters;  it  is  a  blessed  sight  to  see  you  all 
again  together." 

"  Come  then,"  he  said;  and,  each  taking 
one  of  my  hands,  we  went  out  together. 

"Halt!"  he  sudden 
ly  called,  in  his  old- 
time  military  fashion, 
after  a  short  walk,  and 
we  stopped  abruptly 
in  front  of  a  dainty 
house  built  of  the 
finest  polished  woods. 
It  was  beautiful  both 
in  architecture  and 
finish. 

"How  lovely!"  I 
cried;  and  with  a 
bow  of  charming 
humility  he  said: 

"  The  home  of  your  humble  servant. 
Enter." 

I  paused  a  moment  on  the  wide  veranda 
to  examine  a  vine,  wreathed  about  the 
graceful  columns  of  highly-polished  wood, 
and  my  brother  laughingly  said  to  my 
sister: 

"  She  is  the  same  old  Sis!  We  will  not 
get  much  good  out  of  her  until  she  has 
learned  the  name  of  every  flower,  vine  and 
plant  in  heaven." 

"  Yes,  you  will,"  I  said,  shaking  my 
head  at  his  happy  face,  "  but  I  mean  to 


utilize  you  whenever  I  can;   I   have  so 
much  to  learn." 

"  So  you  shall,  dear,"  he  answered 
gently.  "  But  come  in." 

Stepping  inside  a  lovely  vestibule,  out 

of     which     opened,     from     every     side, 

spacious  rooms,  he  called  softly  "Alma!" 

At  once  from  one  of  these,  a  fair  woman 

approached  us. 

"My  dear  child!"  I 
said,  "it  does  not  seem 
possible!  You  were 
but  a  child  when  I  last 
saw  you." 

"She  is  still  her 
father's  girl,"  said 
my  brother,  with  a 
fond  look.  "  She  and 
Carrie,  whom  y  o  u 
never  saw,  make  a 
blessed  home  for  me. 
Where  is  your  sister, 
daughter?" 

"  She  is  at  the  great  music-hall.  She 
lias  a  very  rich  voice  that  she  is  cultivat 
ing,"  Alma  said,  turning  to  me.  "  We 
were  going  to  find  our  aunt  when  she  re 
turned,"  she  added. 

"  True,  true,"  said  my  brother;  "  but 
come." 

Then  they  showed  me  the  lovely  honv\ 
perfect  and  charming  in  every  detail. 
When  we  came  out  upon  a  side  veranda, 
I  saw  we  were  so  near  an  adjoining  house 
that  we  could  easily  step  from  one  veranda 
to  the  other. 


20 


INTEA   3IUROS. 


"  There!"  said  my  brother,  lightly  lift 
ing  me  over  the  intervening  space. 
"  There  is  some  one  here  you  will  wish  to 
see."  Before  I  could  question  him,  he 
led  me  through  the  columned  door-way, 
saying,  "  People  in  heaven  are  never 
'  not  at  home  '  to  their  friends." 

The  house  we  entered  was  almost  iden 
tical  in  construction  and  finish  with  that 
of  my  brother  Nell,  and,  as  we  entered, 
three  persons  came  eagerly  forward  to 
greet  me. 

"Dear  Aunt  Gray!"  I  cried.  "My 
dear  Mary  —  my  dear  Martin!  What  a 
joy  to  meet  you  again!" 

"  And  here,"  said  my  aunt  reverently. 

"  Yes,  here,"  I  answered  in  like  tone. 

It  was  my  father's  sister,  always  a 
favorite  aunt,  with  her  son  and  his  wife. 
How  we  did  talk  and  cling  to  one  another, 
and  ask  and  answer  questions! 

"  Pallas  is  also  here,  and  Will,  but  they 
have  gone  with  Carrie  to  the  music  hall," 
said  Martin. 

"Martin,  can  you  sing  here?"  I  asked. 
He  always  was  trying  to  sing  on  earth, 
but  could  not  master  a  tune. 

"  A  little,"  he  answered,  with  his  old 
genial  laugh  and  shrug;  "  we  can  do  al 
most  anything  here  that  we  really  try  to 
do." 

"  You  should  hear  him  now,  cousin, 
when  he  tries  to  sing,"  said  his  wife,  with 
a  little  touch  of  pride  in  her  voice.  "  You 
would  not  know  it  was  Martin.  But  is  it 
not  nice  to  have  Dr.  Nell  so  near  us?  We 


are  almost  one  household,  you  see.  All 
felt  that  we  must  be  together." 

"  It  is  indeed,"  I  answered,  "  although 
you  no  longer  need  him  in  his  profes 
sional  capacity." 

"  No,  thanks  to  the  Father;  but  we  need 
him  quite  as  much  in  many  other  ways.'" 

"  I  rather  think  I  am  the  one  to  be 
grateful,"  said  my  brother.  "  But,  sister, 
I  promised  Frank  that  you  should  go  to 
your  own  room  awhile;  he  thought  it  wise 
that  you  should  be  alone  for  a  time. 
Shall  we  go  now?" 

"  I  am  ready,"  I  answered,  "  though 
these  delightful  reunions  leave  no  desire 
for  rest." 

"  How  blessed,"  said  my  aunt,  "  that 
there  is  no  limit  here  to  our  mutual  en 
joyment!  We  have  nothing  to  dread, 
nothing  to  fear.  We  know  at  parting 
that  we  shall  meet  again.  We  shall  often 
see  each  other,  my  child." 

Then  my  brother  went  with  me  to  my 
own  home,  and,  with  a  loving  embrace, 
left  me  at  the  door  of  my  room. 

Once  within,  I  lay  down  upon  my  couch 
to  think  over  the  events  of  this  wonderful 
day;  but,  looking  upward  at  the  divine 
face  above  me,  I  forgot  all  else,  and, 
Christ's  peace  enfolding  me  like  a  mantle, 
I  became  "  as  one  whom  his  mother  com- 
forteth."  While  I  lay  in  this  blissful 
rest,  my  brother  Frank  returned,  and, 
without  arousing  me,  bore  me  in  his 
strong  arms  again  to  earth.  I  did  not 
know,  when  he  left  us  in  our  home,  upon 


what  mission  he  was  going,  though  my 
father  knew  it  was  to  return  to  my  dear 
husband  and  accompany  him  upon  his 
sad  journey  to  his  dead  wife;  to  comfort 
and  sustain  and  strengthen  him  in  those 
first  lonely  hours  of  sorrow.  They 
deemed  it  best,  for  wise  reasons,  that  I 
should  wait  awhile  before  returning,  and 
taste  the  blessedness  of  the  new  life,  thus 
gaining  strength  for  the  trial  before  me. 


INTEA    MUROS.  21 

brother  Frank,  who  stood  beside  me.  He 
put  his  arm  about  me,  and  with  a  reassur 
ing  smile,  said: 


CHAPTEE  V. 

Are  they  not  all  ministering  spirits,  sent  forth  to 
minister  lor  them  who  shall  be  heirs  of  salvation?— 
Heb.  1:  14. 

How  oft  do  they  their  silver  bowers  leave, 

To  come  to  succor  us  that  succor  want! 
How  oft  do  they  with  golden  pinions  cleave 
The  flitting  skyes,  like  flying  pursuivant, 
Against  fowle  feendes  to  ayd  us  militant! 
They  for  us  fight,  they  watch,  and  dewly  ward, 
And  their  bright  squadrons  round  about  us 

plant; 

And  all  for  love,  and  nothing  for  reward; 
O  why  should  heavenly  God  to  men  have  such 
regard! 

— [Edmund  Spenser. 

HEX  I  aroused 
from  my  sleep  it 
was  in  the  gray 
light  of  earth's 
morning,  and  I 
was  standing  on  the 
door-step  of  the  house 
in  Kentville  that  my 
brother  and  I  had  left 
together,  some  thirty-six  hours  before, 
reckoned  by  earth-time.  I  shuddered  a 
little  with  a  strange  chill  when  I  saw 
where  we  were,  and  turned  quickly  to  my 


"For  their  sakes  be  brave  and  strong, 
and  try  to  make  them  understand  your 
blessed  change." 

I  did  not  try  to  answer,  though  I  took 
heart,  and  entered  with  him  into  the 
house.  Everything  was  very  quiet  —  no 
one  seemed  astir.  My  brother  softly 
opened  a  door  immediately  to  the  right  of 
the  entrance,  and  motioned  me  to  enter. 
I  did  so,  and  he  closed  it  behind  me,  re 
maining  himself  outside. 

Something  stood  in  the  center  of  the 
room,  and  I  soon  discovered  that  it  was  a 
pall.  It  was  a  great  relief  to  me  to  see 
that  it  was  not  black,  but  a  soft  shade  of 
gray.  Someone  was  kneeling  beside  it, 
and  as  I  slowly  approached  I  saw  it  was 
my  dear  son.  He  was  kneeling  upon  one 
knee,  with  his  elbow  resting  on  the  other 
knee,  and  his  face  buried  in  his  hand. 
One  arm  was  thrown  across  the  casket, 
as  though  he  were  taking  a  last  embrace 
of  his  "  little  mother."  I  saw  that  the 
form  within  the  casket  lay  as  though 
peacefully  sleeping,  and  was  clad  in  silver 
gray,  with  soft  white  folds  about  the  neck 
and  breast.  I  was  grateful  that  they  had 
remembered  my  wishes  so  well. 

I  put  my  arms  about  the  neck  of  my 
darling  son,  and  drew  his  head  gently 
against  my  breast,  resting  my  cheek  upon 
his  bowed  head.  Then  I  whispered, 
"  Dearest,  I  am  here  beside  you  —  living, 


22 


INTEA    MUROS. 


breathing,  strong  and  well.  Will  you  not 
turn  to  me,  instead  of  to  that  lifeless  form 
in  the  casket?  It  is  only  the  worn-out 
tenement  —  I  am  your  living  mother." 

He  lifted  his  head  as  though  listening; 
then,  laying  his  hand  tenderly  against  the 
white  face  in  the  casket  he  whispered, 
''  Poor,  dear  little  mother!"  and  again 
dropped  his  face  into  both  hands,  while 
his  form  shook  with  convulsive  sobs. 

As  I  strove  to  comfort  him,  the  door 
opened  and  his  lovely  girl-wife  entered. 
I  turned  to  meet  her  as  she  came  slowly 
towards  us.  Midway  in  the  room  we  met, 
and,  taking  both  her  hands  tenderly  in 
mine,  I  whispered,  "  Comfort  him,  dar 
ling  girl,  as  only  you  can;  he  needs  human 
love." 

She  paused  a  moment  irresolutely,  look 
ing  directly  into  my  eyes,  then  passed  on 
and  knelt  beside  him,  laying  her  upturned 
face  against  his  shoulder.  I  saw  his  arm 
steal  around  her  and  draw  her  closely  to 
him,  then  I  passed  from  the  room,  feeling 
comforted  that  they  were  together. 

Outside  the  door  I  paused  an  instant, 
then,  slowing  ascending  the  stairs,  I  en 
tered  the  once  familiar  room,  whose  door 
was  standing  ajar.  All  remained  as  when 
I  had  left  it,  save  that  no  still  form  lay 
upon  the  white  bed.  As  I  expected,  I 
found  my  precious  husband  in  this  room. 
He  sat  near  the  bay  window,  his  arm  rest 
ing  upon  the  table,  and  his  eyes  bent  sor 
rowfully  upon  the  floor.  My  heart's  best 
friend  sat  near  him  and  seemed  trying  to 


comfort  him.  Wlien  I  entered  the  room 
our  brother  Frank  arose  from  a  chair 
close  beside  him  and  passed  out,  with  a 
sympathetic  look  at  me.  I  went  at  once 
to  my  dear  husband,  put  my  arms  about 
him,  and  whispered: 

"  Darling!  darling,  I  am  here!" 

He  stirred  restlessly  without  changing 
his  position. 

Virginia  said,  as  though  continuing  a 
conversation,  "  I  am  sure  she  would  say 
you  left  nothing  undone  that  could  pos 
sibly  be  done  for  her." 

"  She  is  right,"  I  whispered. 

"  Still  she  was  alone  at  the  last,"  he 
moaned. 

"  Yes,  dear,  but  who  could  know  it  was 
the  last?  She  sank  so  suddenly  under  the 
pain.  What  can  I  say  to  comfort  you? 
Oh,  Will,  come  home  with  us!  She  would 
want  you  to,  I  am  sure." 

He  shook  his  head  sadly,  while  the  tears 
were  in  his  eyes,  as  he  said:  "  Work  is 
my  only  salvation.  I  must  go  back  in  a 
very  few  days." 

She  said  no  more,  and  he  leaned  back 
wearily  in  his  easy-chair.  I  crept  more 
closely  to  him  and  suddenly  his  arms 
closed  about  me.  I  whispered,  "  There, 
dear,  do  you  not  see  that  I  am  really  with 
you?" 

He  was  very  still,  and  the  room  was 
very  quiet  but  for  the  ticking  of  my  little 
clock  still  standing  upon  the  dressing- 
case.  Presently  I  knew  by  his  regular 
breathing  that  he  had  found  a  short 


INTEA   MUEOS. 


23 


respite  from  his  sorrow.  I  slipped  gently 
from  his  arms  and  went  to  my  friend, 
kneeling  beside  her,  and  folding  my  arms 
about  her. 

"  Virginia,  Virginia !  You  know  I  am 
not  dead!  Why  do  you  grieve?" 

She  looked  over  at  the  worn  face  of  the 
man  before  her,  then  dropped  her  face 
into  her  hand,  whispering,  as  though  she 
had  heard  me 
and  would 
answer: 

"Oh,  Bertha 
darling,  how 
could  you 
leave  him?" 

"  I  am  here, 
dearest!  Do 
realize  that  I 
am  here!" 

She  did  not 

heed  me,  but  sat  absorbed  in  sorrowful 
thought. 

A  few  minutes  later  a  stranger  entered 
the  room,  and  in  a  low  voice  said  some 
thing  about  its  being  "  near  train  time," 
and  brought  my  husband  his  hat.  He 
arose  and  gave  his  arm  to  Virginia,  and, 
our  son  and  his  wife  meeting  them  at  the 
door,  they  started  to  descend  the  stairs. 
Just  then  my  husband  paused  and  cast 
one  sorrowful  glance  around  the  room,  his 
face  white  with  pain.  Our  dear  daughter 
stepped  quickly  to  him,  and,  placing  both 
arms  about  his  neck,  drew  his  face  down 
to  hers.  ("  God  bless  her  in  all  things!" 


I  softly  prayed.)  An  instant  they  stood 
thus,  then  stifling  his  emotion,  they  all 
passed  down  the  stairs  into  the  room  I 
had  first  entered. 

I  kept  very  close  to  my  dear  husband, 
and  never  for  a  single  instant  left  him 
through  all  the  solemn  and  impressive 
services;  through  the  sad  journey  to  our 
old  home;  the  last  rites  at  the  grave; 
the  after-meeting  with  friends;  and  his 


final  return  to  the  weary  routine  of  labor. 
How  thankful  I  was  that  I  had  been  per 
mitted  to  taste,  during  that  wonderful 
day  in  heaven,  the  joys  of  the  blessed  life! 
How  else  could  I  ever  have  passed  calmly 
through  those  trying  scenes,  and  witnessed 
the  sorrow  of  those  so  dear  to  my  heart? 
I  recognize  the  wisdom  and  mercy  of  the 
Father  in  having  so  ordered  it. 

I  soon  found  that  my  husband  was 
right;  work  was  his  great  refuge.  Dur 
ing  the  day  the  routine  of  labor  kept 


24 


INTEA   Mr  EOS. 


brain  and  hands  busy,  leaving  the  heart 
but  little  opportunity  to  indulge  its  sor 
row.  Xight  was  his  trying  time.  Kind 
friends  would  stay  with  him  till  bed-time; 
after  that  he  was  alone.  He  would  turn 
restlessly  on  his  pillow,  and  often  arise 
and  go  into  the  adjoining  room  that  had 
formerly  been  mine,  and  gaze  upon  the 
vacant  bed  with  tearful  eyes.  It  took  all 
my  powers  to  in  any  degree  soothe  and 
quiet  him.  After  a  time  my  brother 
Frank  and  I  arranged  to  spend  alternate 
nights  with  him,  that  he  might  never  be 
alone,  and  especially  were  we  with  him 
upon  his  journeys.  We  found  to  our 
great  joy  that  our  influence  over  him  was 
hourly  growing  stronger,  and  we  were  able 
to  guide  and  help  him  in  many  ways. 

One  night  as  I  was  silently  watching 
beside  him  while  he  slept,  many  months 
after  he  was  alone,  I  became  conscious 
that  evil  threatened  him.  He  was  sleep 
ing  very  peacefully,  and  I  knew  his 
dreams  were  happy  ones  by  the  smile 
upon  his  dear  face.  I  passed  into  the 
hall  of  the  hotel  where  he  was  staying, 
and  found  it  dense  with  smoke.  I  hast 
ened  back  to  him  and  called,  and  tried  to 
shake  him,  but  he  slept  on  peacefully. 
Then  I  called  with  all  my  strength, 
"Will!"  close  to  his  ear. 

Instantly  he  started  up  and  said,  "  Yes, 
dear,  I  am  coming!"  just  as  he  used  to  do 
when  I  called  at  night.  Then  in  a  mo 
ment  he  sank  back  with  a  sigh  upon  his 
pillow,  murmuring,  "  What  a  vivid 


dream!  I  never  heard  her  voice  more 
distinctly  in  life." 

"Will!"  I  again  called,  pulling  him  by 
the  hand  with  all  my  strength,  "  rise 
quickly!  Your  life  is  in  danger!*' 

In  an  instant  he  was  out  of  bed,  upon 
his  feet,  and  hurriedly  drawing  on  his 
clothes.  "  I  am  sure  I  cannot  tell  why  I 
am  doing  this,"  he  muttered  to  himself. 
"I  only  feel  that  I  must!  That  surely 
was  her  voice  I  heard." 

"  Hurry!     Hurry!"  I  urged. 

He  opened  the  door  and  met,  not  only 
the  smoke,  but  tongues  of  flame. 

"  Do  not  try  the  stairway  —  come!" 
and  I  drew  him  past  the  stairway,  and 
through  a  narrow  entrance  to  a  second 
hall  beyond,  and  down  a  second  flight  of 
stairs,  filled  with  smoke,  but  as  yet  no 
flame.  Another  flight  still  below  these, 
then  into  the  open  air,  where  he  stag 
gered,  faint  and  exhausted,  on  to  the  side 
walk,  and  was  quickly  helped  by  friends 
into  a  place  of  safety. 

"  I  am  sure  I  cannot  tell  what  wakened 
me,"  he  afterward  said  to  a  friend.  "  I 
dreamed  I  heard  my  wife  calling  me,  and 
before  I  knew  it  I  was  dressing  myself." 

"  You  did  hear  her,  I  have  no  doubt," 
she  said.  "  Are  they  not  '  all  ministering 
spirits,  sent  forth  to  do  service  for  the 
sake  of  them  that  shall  inherit  salvation'? 
What  lovelier  service  could  she  do  than 
to  thus  save  the  life  of  one  so  dear  to  her, 
whose  earth-work  was  not  yet  done?  Yes, 
you  did  hear  her  call  you  in  time  to  es- 


INTEA   MUROS. 


25 


cape.  Thank  God  for  such  ministra 
tions." 

"  Yes,  it  must  be  so,"  he  answered, 
with  a  happy  look.  "  Thank  God  in 
deed." 

After  this  he  yielded  much  more 
readily  to  our  influence,  and  thus  began 
to  enjoy,  while  yet  upon  earth,  the  re 
union  that  so  surely  awaited  us  in  the 
blessed  life.  I  often  went  also  to  the 
home  of  our  dear  children,  but  there  was 
so  much  to  make  them  happy  that  they 
did  not  need  me  as  their  father  did. 
Sometimes  in  hours  of  great  physical 
prostration,  especially  during  the  absence 
of  his  wife,  I  found  that  I  could  quiet  the 
overwrought  nerves  of  my  dear  son,  and 
lead  his  tired  mind  to  restful  thoughts; 
but  with  youth  and  strength  and  love  to 
support  him,  the  time  had  not  yet  come 
when  my  ministrations  were  essential. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Many  friends  that  traveled  with  me 

Reached  Heaven's  portal  long  ago; 
One  by  one  they  left  me  battling 

With  the  dark  and  crafty  foe. 
They  are  watching  at  the  portal, 

They  are  waiting  at  the  door; 
Waiting  only  for  my  coming — 

The  beloved  ones  gone  before. 

—[Mrs.  H.  M.   Reasoner. 

TMIE  first  time  I  returned  to  the  dear 
heavenly  home  after  my  long  delay 
3n  earth,  as  I  approached  the  entrance,  in 
he  company  of  my  brother  Frank,  we 
?aw  a  tall  young  man  standing  close  by 


the  open  gate,  looking  wistfully  the  way 
we  came.  As  we  drew  near,  he  said  in  an 
almost  pathetic  voice: 

"  Is  my  mother  coming?" 

A  closer  scrutiny  revealed  his  identity, 
and  I  exclaimed  with  joy,  extending  both 
hands  to  him,  "  My  dear  Carroll!" 

He  smiled  a  bright  welcome  as  he  ex 
tended  his  hands,  but  said  wistfully,  "  I 
so  hoped  my  mother  would  return  with 
you,  aunt,  when  you  came  back.  Did  you 
see  her?" 

"  Once  only,  for  a  brief  moment.  She 
is  very  happy  and  bears  her  years  well. 
She  will  come  to  you  now  before  long, 
but  then  you  know  it  will  be  forever." 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  he  answered  brightly. 
"I  will  be  patient.  But,"  he  added 
confidentially,  "  I  so  want  her  to  see  the 
lovely  home  I  myself  am  building  for  her. 
Will  you  come  and  see  it?" 

"  Of  course  I  will,  gladly." 

"  Now?" 

"  Yes,  if  I  may;"  looking  at  my  brother 
for  his  sanction. 

He  nodded  his  head  pleasantly  as  he 
said:  "  That  is  right,  Carroll.  Have  her 
help  you  in  every  way  you  can.  I  will 
leave  you  two  together,  and  you  will  bring 
her  to  me  later?" 

"  Indeed,  yes,"  said  my  nephew;  and  we 
went  away  happily  together. 

"  Where  is  this  wonderful  house,  Car 
roll?" 

"  Not  very  far  beyond  Mrs.  Wick- 
ham's,"  he  said. 


26 


X  T  It  A    31 U SOS. 


We  soon  reached  it,  and  I  \vas  truly 
charmed  with  it  in  every  way.  It  was 
fashioned  much  like  my  brother  Nell's 
home,  and  was,  like  it,  Imilt  of  polished 
woods.  It  was  only  partly  finished,  and 
was  most  artistically  done.  Although 
uncompleted,  I  was  struck  with  the  fact 
that  everything  was  perfect  so  far  as  fin 
ished.  There  was  no  debris  anywhere;  no 
chips,  no  shavings,  no  dust.  The  wood 
seemed  to  have  been  perfectly  prepared 
elsewhere  —  where,  I  have  no  idea.  The 
pieces  were  made  to  fit  accurately,  like  the 
parts  of  a  great  puzzle.  It  required  much 
skill  and  artistic  taste  to  properly  adjust 
each  to  its  place.  This,  my  nephew,  who 
even  in  the  earthly  life  was  quite  a  me 
chanical  genius,  seemed  to  have  no  diffi 
culty  in  doing,  and  the  house  was  slowly 
growing  into  beauty  and  symmetry.  After 
showing  me  all  over  the  house,  he  at  last 
drew  aside  the  hangings  before  an  en 
trance,  beyond  which  were  two  rooms,  not 
only  entirely  finished,  but  beautifully  fur 
nished  as  well. 

"  I  finished  and  furnished  these  rooms 
complete,  so  that  if  my  mother  came  be 
fore  the  house  was  ready,  she  could  oc 
cupy  them  at  once.  You  know  there  is 
no  noise  from  workmen  here;  no  hammer 
ing,  no  unwelcome  sounds." 

I  thought  at  once  of  the  Temple  of 
Jerusalem,  where,  during  its  erection, 
there  was  "  neither  hammer,  nor  axe,  nor 
any  tool  of  iron  heard  in  the  house." 

"  It  is  very  beautiful,  my  dear  boy,"  1 


said  enthusiastically.  "  It  will  give  her 
great  joy  to  know  you  did  it  for  her.  But 
what  is  this  —  a  fireplace?"  pausing  be 
fore  a  lovely  open  chimney,  wherein  wood 
was  piled  ready  to  be  lighted.  "  Is  it  ever 
cold  enough  here  for  fires?" 

"It  is  never  cold,"  he  answered,  "  but 
the  fire  here  never  sends  out  unneeded 
warmth.  We  have  its  cheer  and  beauty 
and  glow,  without  any  of  its  discomforts. 
You  remember  my  mother  loves  to  sit  by 
an  open  fire;  so  I  have  arranged  this  for 
her." 

"  It  is  charming!  But  you  did  not 
make  the  stained-glass  windows  also?" 

"  Xo,  I  have  a  friend  who  has  been 
taught  that  art,  and  we  exchange  work. 
He  helps  me  with  the  windows,  and  I  in 
turn  help  him  with  his  fine  woodwork  and 
inlaying.  I  am  going  to  make  a  '  flower 
room '  for  my  mother  similar  to  yours, 
only  of  lilies  and  violets,  which  will  retain 
their  perfume  always." 

"  I  low  lovely!  I  want  to  thank  you, 
dear  Carroll,  for  your  share  in  our  '  flower 
room.'  It  is  the  most  exquisite  work  I 
ever  saw;  and  it  is  doubly  so  when  I  re 
member  whose  hands  fashioned  it." 

"  It  was  a  labor  of  love  with  us  all,"  he 
said  simply. 

"  That  is  what  enhances  its  beauty  for 
me,"  I  said.  "  But  sit  here  by  me  now, 
and  tell  me  about  yourself.  Do  you 
spend  all  your  time  at  this  delightful 
work?" 

"  Oh,  no,  indeed!       Perhaps  what  we 


IXTEA    MUEOS. 


27 


used  to  call  two  or  three  hours  daily. 
Much  of  my  time  is  still  spent  with  my 

Grandfather    R .       I    do    not    know 

what  I  should  have  done  when  I  first 
came  here,  but  for  him.  I  was  so  ignor 
ant  about  this  life,  and  came  so  sud 
denly." 


"Ye*,     dear 
boy,   I   know,' 
sympa 
thetically. 

"He  met  me 
at  the  very  en- 
trance,   and 
took    me    at 
once     h  o  in  e  , 
w  here       h  e 
and     grandma 
did  everything 
possible  to  in- 
struct     and 
help  me.     But 
I    was,    I    am 
still,     far    below 
what    I    ought    to 
be.     I  would  give 
a    year    out   of    this 
blessed     life  —  I 
would  even  go  back 
to  the  old  life  for  an 
entire   year  —  if   I 


only  could  go  to  my  old  friends,  or  better, 
into  every  Sunday-school  in  the  world, 
and  beseech  the  girls  and  boys  to  try  to 
understand  and  profit  by  the  instruction 
there  received.  Why,  I  used  to  go  to 
Sunday-school,  Sunday  after  Sunday,  help 
sing  the  hymns,  and  read  the  lesson,  and 
listen  to  all  that  was  said;  and  I  really  en 
joyed  every  moment  of  the  time.  Some 
times  I  would  feel  a  great  longing  after 
a  better  life,  but  there  seemed  to  be  no 
one  to  especially  guide  or  help  me,  and, 
the  greater  part  of  the  time,  what  I 
heard  one  Sunday  was  never  once  spoken 
of  or  even  thought  of  till  another  Sunday 
came,  so  that  the  impression  made  was 
very  transient.  Why  do  not  boys  and 
girls  talk  more  together  about  what  they 
hear  at  Sunday-school?  We  were  all 
ready  enough  to  talk  about  a  show  of  any 
kind,  after  it  was  over,  but  seldom  of  the 
Sunday-school,  when  together  socially. 
Why  do  not  teachers  take  more  interest  in 
the  daily  lives  of  their. scholars?  Why  is 
there  so  little  really  helpful  talk  in  ordin 
ary  home  life?  Oh,  I  wish  I  could  go 
back  and  tell  them  this!" 

His  face  beamed  with  enthusiasm  as  he 
talked,  and  I,  too,  wished  it  might  be 
possible  for  him  to  do  as  he  desired. 
But  alas!  "they  will  not  be  persuaded 
even  if  one  arise  from  the  dead,"  I 
thought. 

"  It  is  now  time  for  me  to  go  with 
my  grandfather,"  he  said,  rising,  "  but  we 
will  walk  together  as  far  as  your  home; 


28 


INTEA    MUROS. 


and  you  will  let  me  often  see  you,  will  you 
not  ?'' 

"  Gladly,"  I  answered,  as  we  set  forth. 

We  still  conversed  of  many  things,  as 
we  walked,  and  when  we  parted  at  the 
door  I  said,  "  I  am  soon  to  learn  how  to 
weave  lovely  draperies;  then  I  can  help 
you,  when  you  are  ready  for  them." 

"  That  will  make  my  work  more  de 
lightful  still,"  was  his  reply,  as  he  hast 
ened  on  in  the  direction  of  my  father's 
home. 

CHAPTER  VII. 

She  is  not  dead — the  child   of  our   affection — 

But  gone  unto  that  school 

Where   she   no   longer   needs   our  poor   protec 
tion, 

And  Christ  himself  doth  rule. 
Day  after  day  we  think  what  she  is  doing 

In  those  bright  realms  of  air; 
Year  after  year,  her  tender  steps  pursuing, 

Behold  her  grown  more  fair. 

— [Longfellow. 

Hark!  'tis  the  voice  of  angels 

Borne  in  a  song  to  me, 
Over  the  fields  of  glopy, 

Over  the  jasper  sea! 

— [W.  H.  Doane. 

S  time  passed,  and  I 
grew  more  and 
more  accustomed 
to  the  heavenly 
life  around  me, 
I  found  its  loveli 
ness  unfolded  to 
me  like  the  slow 
opening  of  a  rare  flower.  Delightful  sur 
prises  met  me  at  every  turn.  Now  a  dear 
friend,  from  whom  I  had  parted  years  ago 


in  the  earth-life,  would  come  unexpectedly 
upon  me  with  cordial  greeting;  now  one — 
perhaps  on  earth  greatly  admired,  but 
from  whom  I  had  held  aloof,  from  the  fear 
of  unwelcome  intrusion — would  approacli 
me,  showing  the  lovely  soul  so  full  of  re 
sponsive  kindness  and  congenial  thought, 
that  I  could  but  feel  a  pang  of  regret  for 
what  I  had  lost.  Then  the  clear  revelation 
of  some  truth,  only  partly  understood  in 
life,  though  eagerly  sought  for,  would 
stand  out  clear  and  strong  before  me,  over 
whelming  me  with  its  lustre,  and  perhaps 
showing  the  close  tie  linking  the  earth- 
life  with  the  divine.  But  the  most  won 
derful  to  me  was  the  occasional  meeting 
with  some  one  whom  I  had  never  hoped  to 
meet  "  over  there,"  who,  with  eager  hand 
clasp  and  tearful  eyes,  would  pour  forth 
his  earnest  thanks  for  some  helpful  word, 
some  solemn  warning,  or  even  some  stern 
rebuke,  that  had  turned  him,  all  unknown 
to  myself,  from  the  paths  of  sin  into  the 
"  life  everlasting."  Oh,  the  joy  to  me  of 
such  a  revelation!  Oh,  the  regret  that  my 
earth-life  had  not  been  more  full  of  such 
work  for  eternity! 

My  first  impulse  daily  on  arousing  from 
happy,  blissful  rest,  was  to  hasten  to  the 
"  river  of  life  "  and  plunge  into  its  won 
derful  waters,  so  refreshing,  so  invigorat 
ing,  so  inspiring.  With  a  heart  full  of 
thanksgiving  and  lips  full  of  joyful  praise, 
morning  after  morning,  sometimes  in 
company  with  my  brother,  sometimes 
alone,  I  hastened  thither,  returning  al- 


INTEA   MUROS. 


29 


ways  full  of  new  life  and  hope  and  pur 
pose  to  our  home,  where  for  a  time  each 
day  I  listened  to  the  entrancing  revela 
tions  and  instructions  of  my  brother.  One 
morning,  soon  after  my  return  from  my 
first  visit  to  earth,  as  I  was  on  the  way  to 
the  river,  my  voice  joined  to  the  wonder 
ful  anthem  of  praise  everywhere  sound 
ing,  I  saw  a  lovely  young  girl  approaching 
me  swiftly,  with  outstretched  arms. 

"Dear,  dear  Aunt 
Bertha!"    she 


"  Ah,  yes,  that  is  it  —  the  heing  near 
Him!  That  will  make  any  being  radiant 
and  beautiful,"  I  said. 

"  He  is  so  good  to  me;  so  generous,  so 
tender!  He  seems  to  forget  how  little  I 
have  done  to  deserve  his  care." 

"  He  knows  you  love  him,  dear  heart; 
that  means  everything  to  him." 

"  Love   him!     Oh,   if   loving   him   de 
serves  reward,  I  am  sure  I  ought  to  have 
every  wish  of  my  heart, 
for  I  love  him   a  thou 
sand-fold    better    than 


called,  as  she  drew  near,  "  do  you  not 
know  me?" 

"  My  little  Mae!"  I  cried,  gathering  the 
dainty  creature  into  my  arms.  "  Where 
did  you  spring  from  so  suddenly,  dear? 
Let  me  look  at  you  again!"  holding  her  a 
moment  at  arm's  length,  only  to  draw  her 
again  tenderly  to  me. 

"  You  have  grown  very  beautiful,  my 
child.  I  may  say  this  to  you  here  without 
fear,  I  am  sure.  You  were  always  lovely; 
you  are  simply  radiant  now.  Is  it  this 
divine  life?" 

"  Yes,"  she  said  modestly  and  sweetly; 
"  but  most  of  all  the  being  near  the  Savior 
so  much." 


anything  in  earth  or  heaven.     I  would  die 
for  him!" 

The  sweet  face  grew  surpassingly 
radiant  and  beautiful  as  she  talked,  and  I 
began  to  dimly  understand  the  wonderful 
power  of  Christ  among  the  redeemed  in 
heaven.  This  dear  child,  so  lovely  in  all 
mortal  graces,  so  full  of  earth's  keenest 
enjoyments  during  the  whole  of  her  brief 
life  —  pure  and  good,  as  we  count  good 
ness  below,  yet  seemingly  too  absorbed  in 
life's  gayeties  to  think  deeply  of  the  things 
she  yet  in  her  heart  revered  and  honored, 
now  in  this  blessed  life  counted  the  priv 
ilege  of  loving  Christ,  of  being  near  him, 
beyond  every  other  joy!  And  how  that 


30 


INTEA    MVItOS. 


love  refined  and  beautified  the  giver!  As 
a  great  earthly  love  always  shines  through 
the  face  and  elevates  the  whole  char 
acter  of  the  one  who  loves,  so  this  divine 
love  uplifts  and  glorifies  the  giver, 
until  not  only  the  face  but  the  entire 
person  radiates  the  glory  that  fills  the 
heart. 

"  Come  with  me  to  the  river,  Mae,"  I 
said  presently,  after  we  had  talked  to 
gether  for  some  time;  "  come  with  me  for 
a  delightful  plunge.'' 

"  Gladly/'  she  said;  "  but  have  you  ever 
been  to  the  lake  or  the  sea?" 

"  The  lake  or  the  sea?"  I  echoed.  "  No 
indeed.  "  Are  there  a  lake  and  a  sea 
here?" 

"  Certainly  there  are,"  said  Mae,  with  a 
little  pardonable  pride  that  she  should 
know  more  of  the  heavenly  surroundings 
than  I.  "  Shall  we  go  to  the  lake  to-day, 
and  leave  the  sea  for  another  day?  Which 
shall  it  be?" 

"  Let  it  be  the  lake  to-day,"  I  said. 

So,  turning  in  an  entirely  different  di 
rection  from  the  path  that  led  to  the 
river,  we  walked  joyously  on,  still  talking 
as  we  went.  So  much  to  ask,  so  much  to 
recall,  so  much  to  look  forward  to  with 
joy! 

Once  she  turned  to  me  and  asked 
quickly: 

"  When  is  my  Uncle  Will  coming?" 

My  hand  closed  tightly  over  hers,  and  a 
sob  almost  rose  in  my  throat,  though  I 
answered  calmly: 


"  That  is  in  God's  hands  alone;  we  may 
not  question." 

"  Yes,  I  know.  His  will  is  always 
right;  but  I  so  long  to  see  my  dear 
uncle  again;  and  to  'long'  is  not  to  re 
pine." 

She  had  grown  so  womanly,  so  wise, 
this  child  of  tender  years,  since  we 
parted,  that  it  was  a  joy  to  talk  with 
her.  I  told  her  of  my  sad  errand  to 
earth,  and  the  sorrow  of  the  dear  ones  I 
had  left. 

"Yes,  yes,  I  know  it  all!"  she  whis 
pered,  with  her  soft  arms  about  me. 
"  But  it  will  not  be  long  to  wait.  They 
will  come  soon.  It  never  seems  long  to 
wait  for  anything  here.  There  is  always 
so  much  to  keep  one  busy;  so  many  pleas 
ant  duties,  so  many  joys  —  oh,  it  will  not 
be  long!" 

Thus  she  cheered  and  comforted  me  as 
we  walked  through  the  ever-varying  and 
always  perfect  landscape.  At  length  she 
cried,  lifting  her  arm  and  pointing  with 
her  rosy  finger: 

"  Behold!  Is  it  not  divinely  beauti 
ful?" 

I  caught  my  breath,  then  stopped 
abruptly  and  covered  my  face  with  my 
hands  to  shield  my  eyes  from  the  glorified 
scene.  Xo  wonder  my  brother  had  not 
sooner  brought  me  to  this  place;  I  was 
scarcely  yet  spiritually  strong  enough  to 
look  upon  it.  When  I  again  slowly  lifted 
my  head,  Mae  was  standing  like  one  en 
tranced.  The  golden  morning  light  rested 


INTEA   MUROS. 


31 


upon  her  face,  and,  mingling  with  the 
radiance  that  had  birth  within,  almost 
transfigured  her.  Even  she,  so  long  an 
inhabitant  here,  had  not  yet  grown  accus 
tomed  to  its  glory. 

"  Look,  darling  auntie!  It  is  God's  will 
that  you  should  see,"  she 
softly  whispered,  not 
once  turning  her  eyes 
away  from  the  scene  he- 
fore  her.  "  He  let  me 
be  the  one  to  show  you 
the  glory  of  this  place!" 

I  turned  and  looked, 
like  one  but  half  awak 
ened.  Before  us  spread 
a  lake  as  smooth  as  glass, 
but  flooded  with  a  golden 
glory  caught  from  the 
heavens,  that  made  it  like 
a  sea  of  molten  gold. 
The  blossom-  and  fruit- 
bearing  trees  grew  down 
to  its  very  border  in 
many  places,  and  far,  far 
away,  across  its  shining 
waters,  arose  the  domes 
and  spires  of  what 
seemed  to  be  a  mighty 
city.  Many  people  were  resting  upon 
its  flowery  banks,  and  on  the  surface  of 
the  water  were  boats  of  wonderful  struc 
ture,  filled  with  happy  souls,  and  pro 
pelled  by  an  unseen  power.  Little  chil 
dren,  as  well  as  grown  persons,  wrere 
floating  upon  or  swimming  in  the  water; 


and  as  we  looked  a  band  of  singing 
cherubs,  floating  high  overhead,  drifted 
across  the  lake,  their  baby  voices  borne  to 
us  where  we  stood,  in  notes  of  joyful 
praise. 

"  Come,"  said  Mae,  seizing  my  hand, 
"let  us  join  them;"  and 
we  hastened  onward. 

"  Glory  and  honor!" 
sang  the  child  voices. 
"  Dominion  and  power!" 
caught  up  and  answered 
the  voices  of  the  vast 
multitude  below.  "  Be 
unto  Him  who  sitteth 
upon  the  throne,  and  to 
the  Lamb  forever,"  sang 
both  child-voices  an  1 
multitude  together,  airl 
in  the  strain  I  found 
that  Mae  and  I  were 
joining.  The  cherub 
band  floated  onward,  and 
away  in  the  distance  we 
caught  the  faint  melody 
of  their  sweet  voices,  and 
the  stronger  cadence  of 
the  response  from  those 
waiting  below. 

We  stood  upon  the  margin  of  the  lake, 
and  my  cheeks  were  tear-bedewed  and  my 
eyes  dim  with  emotion.  I  felt  weak  as  a 
little  child;  but  oh,  what  rapture,  what 
joy  unspeakable  filled  and  overmastered 
me!  Was  I  dreaming?  Or  was  this  indeed 
but  another  phase  of  the  immortal  life? 


32 


INTEA    MUROS. 


Mae  slipped  her  arm  about  my  neck 
and  whispered,  "  Dearest,  come.  After 
the  rapture  —  rest." 

I  yielded  to  her  passively;  I  could  not 
do  otherwise.  She  led  me  into  the  water, 
down,  down  into  its  crystal  depths,  and 
when  it  seemed  to  me  we  must  be  hun 
dreds  of  feet  beneath  the  surface,  she 
threw  herself  prostrate  and  bade  me  do 
the  same.  I  did  so,  and  immediately  we 
began  to  slowly  rise.  Presently  I  found 
that  we  no  longer  rose,  but  were  slowly 
floating  in  mid-current,  many  feet  still 
beneath  the  surface.  Then  appeared  to 
me  a  marvel.  Look  where  I  would,  per 
fect  prismatic  rays  surrounded  me.  I 
seemed  to  be  resting  in  the  heart  of  a 
prism;  and  such  vivid  yet  delicate  color 
ing,  mortal  eyes  never  rested  upon.  In 
stead  of  the  seven  colors,  as  we  see  them 
here,  the  colors  blended  in  such  rare 
gradation  of  shades  as  to  make  the  rays 
seem  almost  infinite,  or  they  really  were 
so;  I  could  not  decide  which. 

As  I  lay  watching  this  marvelous  pan 
orama,  for  the  colors  deepened  and  faded 
like  the  lights  of  the  aurora  borealis,  I 
was  attracted  by  the  sound  of  distant 
music.  Although  Mae  and  I  no  longer 
clung  together,  we  did  not  drift  apart, 
as  one  would  naturally  suppose  we  might, 
but  lay  within  easy  speaking-distance  of 
each  other,  although  few  words  were 
spoken  by  either  of  us;  the  silence  seemed 
too  sacred  to  be  lightly  broken.  We  lay 
upon,  or  rather  within,  the  water,  as  upon 


the  softest  couch.  It  required  no  effort 
whatever  to  keep  ourselves  afloat;  the  gen 
tle  undulation  of  the  waves  soothed  and 
rested  us.  When  the  distant  music  ar 
rested  my  attention,  I  turned  and  looked 
at  Mae.  She  smiled  back  at  me,  but  did 
not  speak.  Presently  I  caught  the  words, 
"  Glory  and  honor,  dominion  and  power," 
and  I  knew  it  was  still  the  cherub  choir, 
although  they  must  now  be  many  miles 
distant.  Then  the  soft  tones  of  a  bell  — 
a  silver  bell  with  silver  tongue  —  fell  on 
my  ear,  and  as  the  last  notes  died  away,  I 
whispered: 

"  Tell  me,  Mae." 

"  Yes,  dear,  I  will.  The  waters  of  this 
lake  catch  the  light  in  a  most  marvelous 
manner,  as  you  have  seen;  a  wiser  head 
than  mine  must  tell  you  why.  They  also 
transmit  musical  sounds  —  only  musical 
sounds — for  a  great  distance.  The  song 
was  evidently  from  the  distant  shore  of 
the  lake." 

"And  the  bell?" 

"  That  is  the  bell  which  in  the  city 
across  the  lake  calls  to  certain  duties  at 
this  hour." 

"  There  never  was  a  sweeter  call  to 
duty,"  I  said. 

"  Yes,  its  notes  are  beautiful.  Hark! 
now  it  rings  a  chime." 

We  lay  and  listened,  and  as  we  listened 
a  sweet  spell  wrapped  me  round,  and  I 
slept  as  peacefully  as  a  child  on  its 
mother's  bosom.  I  awoke  with  a  strange 
sense  of  invigoration  and  strength.  It 


INTEA   MUEOS. 


33 


was  a  feeling  wholly  dissimilar  to  that  ex 
perienced  during  a  bath  in  the  river,  yet 
I  could  not  explain  how.  Mae  said: 

"  One  takes  away  the  last  of  the 
earth-life,  and  prepares  us  for  the  life 
upon  which  we  enter;  the 
other  fills  us  to  overflowing 
with   a   draught   from   the 
Celestial  Life  itself." 

And   I  think  the  child   was 
right. 

When  we  emerged  from  the 
water  we  found  the  banks 
of    the    lake    almost    de 
serted,  every  one  having 
gone,  at  the  call  of  the 
bell,  to  the  happy  duties 
of  the  hour.     Groups  of 
children    still    played 
around  in  joyous  freedom. 
Some  climbed  the  trees 
that  overhung  the  water, 
with  the  agility  of  squir 
rels,    and    dropped    with 
happy  shouts   of  laughter  into 
the  lake,  floating  around  upon  its 
surface  like  immense  and  beauti 
ful  water-lilies  or  lotus  flowers. 

"  No  fear  of  harm  or  danger; 
no  dread  of  ill,  or  anxiety  lest  a  mis 
hap  occur;  security,  security  and  joy 
and  peace!  This  is  indeed  the  blessed 
life,"  I  said,  as  we  stood  watching  the 
sports  of  the  happy  children. 

"  I  often  think  how  we  were  taught  to 
believe  that  heaven  was  where  we  would 


wear  crowns  of  gold  and  stand  with  harps 
always  in  our  hands!  Our  crowns  of  gold 
are  the  halos  His  blessed  presence  casts 
about  us;  and  we  do  not 
need  harps  to  accentuate 
our  songs  of  praise.  We  do 
see  the  crowns,  and  we  do 
hear  the  angelic  harps, 
when  and  as  God  wills  it, 
but  our  best  worship  is 
to  do  his  blessed  will," 
said  Mae  as  we  turned  to 

go- 

"  You  are  wise  in  the 
lore  of  heaven,  my 
child,"  I  answered;  "how 
happy  I  am  to  learn  from 
one  so  dear!  Tell  me  all 
about  your  life  here." 

So  as  we  walked  she 
told   me  the  history   of 
her   years   in   heaven  — 
her  duties,  her  joys,  her 
friends,    her    home  — 
with    all    the    old-time 
freedom.      I   found   her 
home  was  distant  from  our 
own — far  beyond  the  spires  of 
the  great  city  across  the  lake 
— but  she  added: 

"  What  is  distance  in  heaven? 
We  come  and  go  at  will.  We  feel  no 
fatigue,  no  haste,  experience  no  delays;  it 
is  blessed,  blessed!" 

Not  far  from  our  home  we  saw  a  group 
of  children  playing  upon  the  grass,  arid  in 


34 


INT  HA    MUHOS. 


their  midst  was  a  beautiful  great  dog,  over 
which  they  were  rolling  and  tumbling 
with  the  greatest  freedom.  As  we  ap 
proached  he  broke  away  from  them  and 
came  bounding  to  meet  us,  and  crouched 
and  fawned  at  my  feet  with  every  gesture 
of  glad  welcome. 

"  Do  you  not  know  him,  auntie?"  Mae 
asked  brightly. 

"  It  is  dear  old  Sport !"  I  cried,  stooping 
and  placing  my  arms  about  his  neck,  and 
resting  my  head  on  his  silken  hair. 
"Dear  old  fellow!  How  happy  I  am  to 
have  you  here!" 

He  responded  to  my  caresses  with  every 
expression  of  delight,  and  Mae  laughed 
aloud  at  our  mutual  joy. 

"  I  have  often  wondered  if  I  should  not 
some  day  find  him  here.  He  surely  de 
serves  a  happy  life  for  his  faithfulness  and 
devotion  in  the  other  life.  His  intelli 
gence  and  his  fidelity  were  far  above  those 
of  many  human  beings  whom  we  count 
immortal." 

"  Did  he  not  sacrifice  his  life  for  little 
Will?" 

"  Yes;  he  attempted  to  cross  the  track 
in  front  of  an  approaching  train,  because 
he  saw  it  would  pass  between  him  and  his 
little  master,  and  feared  he  was  in  danger. 
It  cost  his  life.  He  always  placed  him 
self  between  any  of  us  and  threatened 
danger,  but  Will  he  seemed  to  con 
sider  his  especial  charge.  He  was  a  gal 
lant  fellow  —  he  deserves  immortality. 
Dear,  dear  old  Sport,  you  shall  never 


leave  me  again!"  I  said,  caressing  him 
fondly. 

At  this  he  sprang  to  his  feet,  barking 
joyously,  and  gambolled  and  frolicked  be 
fore  us  the  rest  of  the  way  home,  then  lay 
down  upon  the  doorstep,  with  an  upward 
glance  and  a  wag  of  his  bushy  tail,  PS 
though  to  say,  "  See  how  I  take  you  at 
your  word!" 

"  He  understands  every  word  we  say," 
said  Mae. 

"Of  course  he  does;  he  only  lacks 
speech  to  make  him  perfect.  I  somehow 
hoped  he  might  find  it  here." 

"  He  would  not  be  half  so  interesting 
if  he  could  talk,"  said  Mae. 

"  Possibly  not.  How  silken  and  beau 
tiful  his  long  hair  is!" 

"  He  has  his  bath  in  the  river  every 
day,  and  it  leaves  its  mark  on  him  also. 
Do  you  know  I  think  one  of  the  sweetest 
proofs  we  have  of  the  Father's  loving 
care  for  us  is,  that  we  so  often  find  in  this 
life  the  things  which  gave  us  great  happi 
ness  below.  The  more  unexpected  this 
is,  the  greater  joy  it  brings.  I  remember 
once  seeing  a  beautiful  little  girl  enter 
heaven,  the  very  first  to  come  of  a  large 
and  affectionate  family.  I  afterward 
learned  that  the  sorrowful  cry  of  her 
mother  was,  '  Oh,  if  only  we  had  someone 
there  to  meet  her,  to  care  for  her!'  She 
came,  lovingly  nestled  in  the  Master's 
own  arms,  and  a  little  later,  as  he  sat, 
still  caressing  and  talking  to  her,  a  re 
markably  fine  Angora  kitten,  of  which  the 


INTEA   MVKOS. 


35 


child  had 
heen  very 
fond,  and 
•\v  h  i  c  h  had 
sickened  and 
died  some 
weeks  before, 
to  her  great 
sorrow,  came 
running  across 
the  grass  and 
sprang  di 
rectly  into 
her  arms, 

where  it  lay  contentedly.  Such  a  glad 
•cry  as  she  recognized  her  little  favorite, 
such  a  hugging  and  kissing  as  that  kitten 
received,  made  joy  even  in  heaven!  Who 
ibut  our  loving  Father  would  have  thought 
•of  such  comfort  for  a  little  child?  She 
had  evidently  been  a  timid  child;  but  now 
as  the  children  gathered  about  her,  with 
the  delightful  freedom  they  always  mani 
fest  in  the  presence  of  the  beloved  Master, 
she,  looking  up  confidingly  into  the  ten 
der  eyes  above  her,  began  to  shyly  tell  of 
the  marvelous  intelligence  of  her  dumb 
pet,  until  at  last  Jesus  left  her  contentedly 
playing  among  the  flowers  with  the  little 
•companions  who  had  gathered  about  her. 
Our  Father  never  forgets  us,  but  provides 
pleasures  and  comforts  for  us  all,  accord 
ing  to  our  individual  needs." 

"When  shall  I  behold  the  Savior? 
When  shall  I  meet  face  to  face  him  whom 
my  soul  so  loveth?"  my  hungry  heart 


its  depths. 

Mae,  as  though  understanding  the  si 
lent  cry,  placed  both  arms  about  my  neck, 
looked  tenderly  into  my  eyes,  and  whis 
pered: 

"  You,  too,  dearest,  will  see  him  soon. 
He  never  delays  when  the  time  is  ripe  for 
his  coming.  It  will  not  be  long;  you  too 
will  see  him  soon." 

So  we  parted,  each  to  the  duties  of  the 
hour. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

Sae  little  noo  I  ken  o'  yon  blessed,  bonnie  place, 
I  only  ken  it's  Hame,  whaur  we  shall  see  His 

face; 

It  wad  surely  be  eneuch  forever  mair  to  be 
In  the  glory  o'  His  presence,  in  oor  ain  coun- 

trie. 
Like  a  bairn  to  his  mither,  a  wee  birdie  to  its 

nest, 
I  wad  fain  be  gangin'  noo  unto  my  Savior's 

breast, 
For  he  gathers  in  his  bosom  witless,  worthless 

lambs    like    me. 

And  carries  them  himsel'  to  his  ain  countrie. 
— [Mary  Lee  Demarest. 


36  1XTRA 

HE  following  morning 
my  brother  said  to 
me,  after  an  inter 
esting  hour  of  in 
struction: 

"  Shall  we  go  for 
the    promised    visit 
to  Mrs.  Wickham  now?" 

"  Indeed,  yes!"  I  answered  eagerly;  so 
we  at  once  set  forth. 

We  soon  reached  her  lovely  home  and 
found  her  waiting  at  the  entrance  as 
though  expecting  us.  After  a  cordial 
greeting  to  our  friend,  my  brother  said: 

"  I  will  leave  you  together  for  that 
'  long  talk '  for  which  I  know  you  are 
both  eager,  and  will  go  my  way  to  other 
duties.  I  will  find  you,  later  on,  at  home." 
The  last  remark  to  me. 

"  All  right,"  I  answered.  "  I  am  fa 
miliar  with  the  way  now,  and  need  no 
attendance." 

After  he  had  gone,  my  friend  took  me 
all  over  her  lovely  home,  showing  me, 
with  great  pleasure,  the  rooms  prepared 
for  each  beloved  member  of  her  earthly 
household  still  to  come.  One  very  large 
room,  into  whose  open  windows  at  each 
end  the  blossom  and  fruit-laden  boughs  of 
the  immortal  trees  looked  invitingly,  was 
evidently  her  especial  care;  and  she  whis 
pered  to  me,  "  Douglass  always  did  like  a 
large  room.  I  am  sure  he  will  like  this 
one."  And  I  was  also  sure. 

Eeturning  down  the  broad  stairway,  we 
found  it  entered  into  a  very  large  music- 


MUROS. 

room,  with  broad  galleries  supported  by 
marble  columns,  running  across  three 
sides  of  it,  on  a  level  with  the  second  floor. 
In  this  gallery  was  a  number  of  musical 
instruments  —  harps,  viols,  and  some  un 
like  any  instruments  I  had  ever  seen  else 
where.  The  room  itself  was  filled  with 
easy-chairs,  couches  and  window-seats, 
where  listeners  could  rest  and  hear  the 
sweet  harmonies  from  the  galleries. 

"  My  daughter,"  my  friend  explained, 
"  who  left  us  in  early  childhood,  has  re 
ceived  a  fine  musical  training  here,  and  is 
fond  of  gathering  in  her  young  friends 
and  giving  us  quite  often  a  musical  treat. 
You  know  our  old  home  of  Springville 
has  furnished  some  rare  voices  for  the 
heavenly  choirs.  Mary  Allis,  Will  Griggs, 
and  many  others  you  will  often  hear  in 
this  room,  I  trust." 

We  re-entered,  from  this  room,  the 
dainty  reception  hall  opening  upon  the 
front  veranda  and  outer  steps.  Here  Mrs. 
Wickham  drew  me  to  a  seat  beside  her  and 
said: 

"  Now,  tell  me  everything  of  the  dear 
home  and  all  its  blessed  inmates." 

Holding  each  other's  hands  as  we 
talked,  she  questioning,  I  answering, 
things  too  sacred  to  be  repeated  here  were 
dwelt  upon  for  hours.  At  last  ihe  said, 
rising  hastily: 

"  I  will  leave  you  for  a  little  while  — 
nay,  you  must  not  go,"  as  I  would  have 
risen,  "  there  is  much  yet  to  be  said;  wait 
here,  I  will  return." 


INTltA   MUBOS. 

I  had  already  learned  not  to  question 


37 


the  judgment  of  these  wiser  friends,  and 
yielded  to  her  will.  As  she  passed  through 
the  doorway  to  the  inner  house,  I  saw  a 
stranger  at  the  front  entrance  and  arose 
to  meet  him.  He  was  tall  and  command 
ing  in  form,  with  a  face  of  ineffable  sweet 
ness  and  beauty.  Where  had  I  seen  him 
before?  Surely, 
surely  I  had  met 
him  since  I  came. 
"Ah,  now  I 
know!"  I  thought; 
"it  is  St.  John, 
the  beloved  dis 
ciple."  He  had 
been  pointed  out 
to  me  one  morn 
ing  by  the  river 
side. 

"  Peace  be  unto 

this   house,"    was    his    salutation    as    he 
entered. 

How  his  voice  stirred  and  thrilled  me! 
No  wonder  the  Master  loved  him,  with 
that  voice  and  that  face! 

"  Enter.  Thou  art  a  welcome  guest. 
Enter,  and  I  will  call  the  mistress,"  I 
said,  as  I  approached  to  bid  him  wel 
come. 

"  Nay,  call  her  not.  She  knows  that  I 
nm  here;  she  will  return,"  he  said.  "  Sit 
thou  awhile  beside  me,"  he  continued,  as 
he  saw  that  I  still  stood,  after  I  had  seen 
him  seated.  He  arose  and  led  me  to  a 
seat  near  him,  and  like  a  child  I  did  as  I 


was  bidden;  still  watching,  always  watch 
ing,  the  wonderful  face  before  me. 
"  You  have  but  lately  come?"  he  said. 
"  Yes,   I   am   here   but   a   short   time. 
So    short    that    I    know    not    how    to 
reckon  time  as  you  count  it  here,"  I  an 
swered. 

"  Ah,  that  matters  little,"  he  said  with 
a  gentle  smile. 
"  Many  cling  al 
ways  to  the  old 
reckoning  and  the 
earth-language.  It 
is  a  link  between 
the  two  lives;  we 
would  not  have  it 
otherwise.  How 
does  the  change 
impress  you? 
How  do  you  find 
life  here?" 

"Ah,"  I  said,  "if  they  could  only 
know!  I  never  fully  understood  till  now 
the  meaning  of  that  sublime  passage, 
'  Eye  hath  not  seen,  nor  ear  heard,  neither 
have  entered  into  the  heart  of  man,  the 
things  which  God  hath  prepared  for  them 
that  love  him.'  It  is  indeed  past  human 
conception."  I  spoke  with  deep  feel 
ing. 

"'For  them  that  love  him'?  Do  you 
believe  that  all  Christians  truly  love 
him?"  he  asked.  "Do  you  think  they 
love  the  Father  for  the  gift  of  the  Son, 
and  the  Son  because  of  the  Father's  love 
and  mercy?  Or  is  their  worship  ofttimes 


38 


INTRA   MUROS. 


that  of  duty  rather  than  love?"  He  spoke 
reflectively  and  gently. 

"  Oil,"  I  said,  "  you  who  so  well  know 
the  beloved  Master  —  who  were  so  loved 
by  him  —  how  can  you  doubt  the  love  he 
must  inspire  in  all  hearts  who  seek  to 
know  him?" 

A  radiant  glow  overspread  the  won 
derful  face,  which  he  lifted,  looking  di 
rectly  at  me  —  the  mist  rolled  away  from 
before  my  eyes  —  and  I  knew  him!  With 
a  low  cry  of  joy  and  adoration,  I  threw 
myself  at  his  feet,  bathing  them  with 
happy  tears.  He  gently  stroked  my 
bowed  head  for  a  moment,  then  rising, 
lifted  me  to  his  side. 

"  My  Savior  —  my  King!"  I  whispered, 
clinging  closely  to  him. 

"  Yes,  and  Elder  Brother  and  Friend," 
he  added,  wiping  away  tenderly  the  tears 
stealing  from  beneath  my  closed  eyelids. 

"Yes,  yes,  'the  chief est  among  ten 
thousand,  and  the  One  altogether 
lovely!'"  again  I  whispered. 

"  Ah,  now  you  begin  to  meet  the  con 
ditions  of  the  new  life!  Like  many  an 
other,  the  changing  of  faith  to  sight  with 
you  has  engendered  a  little  shrinking,  a 
little  fear.  That  is  all  wrong.  Have  you 
forgotten  the  promise,  '  I  go  to  prepare  a 
place  for  you;  that  where  I  am,  there  ye 
may  be  also  '?  If  you  loved  me  when  you 
could  not  see  me  except  by  faith,  love  me 
more  now  when  we  have  really  become 
'  co-heirs  of  the  Father.'  Come  to  me 
with  all  that  perplexes  or  gladdens;  come 


to  the  Elder  Brother  always  waiting  to  re 
ceive  you  with  joy." 

Then  he  drew  me  to  a  seat,  and  con 
versed  with  me  long  and  earnestly,  un 
folding  many  of  the  mysteries  of  the 
divine  life.  I  hung  upon  his  words;  I 
drank  in  every  tone  of  his  voice;  I 
watched  eagerly  every  line  of  the  beloved 
face;  and  I  was  exalted,  uplifted,  upborne, 
beyond  the  power  of  words  to  express.  At 
length  with  a  divine  smile,  he  arose. 

"  We  will  often  meet,"  he  said;  and  Iy 
bending  over,  pressed  my  lips  reverently 
to  the  hand  still  clasping  my  own.  Then 
laying  his  hands  a  moment  in  blessing 
upon  my  bowed  head,  he  passed  noise 
lessly  and  swiftly  from  the  house. 

As  I  stood  watching  the  Savior's  fast- 
receding  figure,  passing  beneath  the 
flower-laden  trees,  I  saw  two  beautiful 
young  girls  approaching  the  way  he  went. 
With  arms  intertwined  they  came,  happily 
conversing  together,  sweet  Mary  Bates 
and  Mae  Camden.  When  they  saw  the 
Master,  with  a  glad  cry  they  flew  to  meet 
him,  and  as  he  joyously  extended  a  hand 
to  each,  they  turned,  and  each  clinging  to 
his  hand,  one  upon  either  side,  accom 
panied  him  on  his  way,  looking  up  trust 
ingly  into  his  face  as  he  talked  with  them, 
and  apparently  conversing  with  him  with 
happy  freedom.  I  saw  his  face  from  time 
to  time  in  profile,  as  he  turned  and  looked 
down  lovingly,  first  upon  one,  then  the 
other  lovely  upturned  face,  and  I  thought, 
"  That  is  the  way  he  would  have  us  be 


1XTEA    MUEOS. 


39 


with  him  —  really  as  children  with  a  be 
loved  elder  brother."  I  watched  them 
till  the  trees  hid  them  from  my  sight, 
longing  to  gather  the  dear  girls  to  my 
heart,  but  knowing  his  presence  was  to 
them  then  more  than  aught  flse;  then  I 
turned  and  passed  softly  through  the 
house  to  the  beautiful  entrance  at  the 
rear.  Just  before  I  reached  the  door  I 
met  my  friend  Mrs. 
"Wickham.  Before  I 
could  speak,  she  said: 

"  I  know  all  about  it. 
Do  not  try  to  speak;  I 
know  your  heart  is  full. 
I  will  see  you  very  soon 
—  there,  go!"  and  she 
pushed  me  gently  to  the 
door. 

How  my  heart  blessed 
her  —  for  it  indeed 
seemed  sacrilege  to  try  to  talk  on  ordinary 
topics  after  this  blessed  .experience.  I 
did  not  follow  the  walk,  but  kept  across 
the  flowery  turf,  beneath  the  trees,  till  I 
reached  home.  I  found  my  brother  sit 
ting  upon  the  veranda,  and  as  I  ascended 
the  steps  he  rose  to  meet  me.  When  he 
looked  into  my  face,  he  took  both  hands 
into  his  for  an  instant,  and  simply  said, 
very  gently: 

"  Ah,  I  see.  You  have  been  with  the 
Master!"  and  stepped  aside  almost  rever 
ently  for  me  to  enter  the  house. 

I  hastened  to  my  room,  and,  dropping 
the  draperies  behind  me  at  the  door,  I 


threw  myself  upon  the  couch,  and  with 
closed  eyes  lived  over  every  instant  I  had 
spent  in  that  hallowed  Presence.  I  re 
called  every  word  and  tone  of  the  Savior's 
voice,  and  fastened  the  instructions  he 
had  given  me  indelibly  upon  my  memory. 
I  seemed  to  have  been  lifted  to  a  higher 
plane  of  existence,  to  have  drunk  deeper 
draughts  from  the  fountain  of  all  good, 
since  I  had  met  "  Him 
whom  my  soul  loved." 
It  was  a  long,  blessed 
communion  that  I  held 
thus  with  my  own  soul 
on  that  hallowed  day. 
When  I  looked  upon  the 
pictured  face  above  me, 
I  wondered  that  I  had 
not  at  once  recognized 
the  Christ,  the  likeness 
was  so  perfect.  But 
I  concluded  that  for  some  wise  pur 
pose  my  "  eyes  were  holden "  until  it 
was  his  pleasure  that  I  should  see  him  as 
he  is. 

When  at  last  I  arose,  the  soft  golden 
twilight  was  about  me,  and  I  knelt  by  my 
couch,  to  offer  my  first  prayer  in  heaven. 
Up  to  this  time  my  life  there  had  been  a 
constant  thanksgiving — there  had  seemed 
no  room  for  petition.  Now  as  I  knelt  all 
I  could  utter  over  and  over,  was: 

"  I  thank  Thee,  blessed  Father!  I  thank 
Thee,  I  thank  Thee!" 

When  I  at  last  descended  the  stairs,  I 
found  my  brother  standing  in  the  great 


40 


INTEA    MUEOS. 


"  flower-room,"  and,  going  to  him,  I  said 
softly: 

"  Frank,  what  do  you  do  in  heaven 
when  you  want  to  pray?" 

"  We  praise!"  he  answered. 

"  Then  let  us  praise  now,"  I  said. 

And  standing  there,  with  clasped 
hands,  we  lifted  up  our  hearts  and  voices 
in  a  hymn  of  praise  to  God;  my  brother 
with  his  clear,  strong  voice  leading,  I  fol 
lowing.  As  the  first  notes  sounded,  I 
thought  the  roof  echoed  them;  but  I 
soon  found  that  other  voices  blended  with 
ours,  until  the  whole  house  seemed  filled 
with  unseen  singers.  Such  a  grand  hymn 
of  praise  earth  never  heard.  And  as  the 
hymn  went  on,  I  recognized  many  dear . 
voices  from  the  past  —  Will  Griggs'  pa 
thetic  tenor,  Mary  Allis'  exquisite  so 
prano,  and  many  another  voice  that 
wakened  memories  of  the  long  ago.  Then 
as  I  heard  sweet  child-voices,  and  looked 
up,  I  saw  above  us  such  a  cloud  of  radiant 
baby  faces  as  flooded  my  heart  with  joy. 
The  room  seemed  filled  with  them. 

"  Oh,  what  a  life  —  what  a  divine  life!" 
I  whispered,  as,  after  standing  until  the 
last  lingering  notes  had  died  away,  my 
brother  and  I  returned  to  the  veranda  and 
sat  in  the  golden  twilight. 

"  You  are  only  in  the  first  pages  of  its 
record,"  he  said.  "  Its  blessedness  must 
be  gradually  unfolded  to  us,  or  we  could 
not,  even  here,  bear  its  dazzling  glory." 

Then  followed  an  hour  of  hallowed  in 
tercourse,  when  he  led  my  soul  still 


deeper  into  the  mysteries  of  the  glorious 
life  upon  which  I  had  now  entered.  He 
taught  me;  I  listened.  Sometimes  I 
questioned,  but  rarely.  I  was  content  to 
take  of  the  heavenly  manna  as  it  was 
given  me,  with  a  heart  full  of  gratitude 

and  love. 

— -•• 

CHAPTER  IX. 

Not  as  a  child  shall  we  again  behold  her; 

For  when  with  rapture  wild 
In  our  embraces  we  again  enfold  her, 

She  will  not  be  a  child, 
But  a  fair  maiden,  in  her  Father's  Mansion, 

Clothed   with   celestial   grace. 
And  beautiful  with  all  the  soul's  expansion 

Shall  we  behold  her  fact. 

—  [Henry  W.  Longfellow. 

NEXT  day,  my 
brother  being  away 
upon  an  important 
mission,  I  started 
out  alone  to  see  if  I 
might  not  find  the 
dear  young  friends 
of  whom  I  had 
caught  a  fleeting  glimpse  the  day  before. 
I  knew  that  all  things  were  ordered  aright 
in  that  happy  world,  and  that  sooner  or 
later  I  should  find  them  again;  yet  I  could 
but  hope  it  might  be  very  soon.  I  recalled 
the  happy  light  upon  their  fresh  young 
faces  as  they  had  met  the  beloved  Master, 
and  I  longed  to  talk  with  them  of  their 
life  from  day  to  day.  From  thinking  of 
them,  I  began  again  to  think  of  my  blessed 
interview  with  Him,  and  became  so  ab- 


INTEA   MUEOS. 


41 


sorbed  in  these  thoughts  that  I  was  even 
oblivious  to  the  beautiful  world  around 
me.  Suddenly  I  heard  some  one  say: 


name  often  used  by  her  in  the  happy 
past  — "  how   glad,    how   glad   I   am   to 
have  you  here!     I  could  scarcely  wait  to 
"  Surely   that   is   Mrs.    Sprague!"   and    find  you." 

looking  up,  I  saw  sweet        "  How    did    you    know    I    was    here, 
!;   A  r--.  Mary  Bates  a  few  steps    Mamie?" 

away,      regard-        "  The  Master  told  me,"  she  said  softly, 
ing     me     in-    "  Mae  had  already  told  me,  and  we  were 
tently.     I  cried    on  the  way  to  find  you  when  we  met  him, 
and  he  told  us  he  had  just  left  you.    Then 
we  knew  we  must  wait  a  little,"  she  said 
reverently. 

How    my    heart 
thrilled!     He     had 
thought     about,     had 
Bpoken  of  me,  after  we 
~~     parted!      I    longed    to 
ask   her   what   he   had 
x     said,    but     dared    not. 
Seeming  to  divine   my 
thoughts,      s  h  e      con 
tinued: 

\  "  lie   spoke   so   ten 

derly    about    you,    and 
said   we  must  be  with 
Mae  had  work  to  do  to-day, 
and  as  she  had  already  seen  you  once,  I 
came  alone.     She  may  be  here  later  on. 
May  I  stay  a  long  time  with  you?     There 
is  so  much  to  tell  you,  so  much  to  ask 
about!" 

"  Indeed  you  may.     I  had  started  out 


"My  precious  Mamie!" 

She  flew  to  me,  and  folding  me  in  her 
arms,  drew  my  head  to  her  shoulder  in    to  find  you,  when  we  met.     Come,  dear 
the  old  caressing  way,  almost  sobbing  in    child,  let  us  return  home  at  once." 


her  great  joy. 
"  Dear,    dear 


little    muzzer!" — a    pet 


So,  clinging  to  each  other,  we  set  out 
toward  my  home. 


42 


INTEA    MUKOS. 


"What  shall  I  tell  you  first?"  I  asked. 

"  Everything  about  the  dear  ones  — 
every  individual  member  of  our  beloved 
household.  Begin  with  my  precious, 
heart-broken  mother;"  here  her  voice 
broke  a  little,  but  she  soon  continued,  "  I 
am  with  her  often,  but  her  great,  and  I 
fear  unreconciled,  sorrow,  keeps  me  from 
being  the  comfort  to  her  I  long  to  be.  If 
only  she  could  spend  one  hour  with  me 
here,  could  know  God's  wisdom  and  love 
as  we  know  it,  how  the  cloud  would  lift 
from  her  life!  How  she  would  see  that 
the  two  lives,  after  all,  are  but  one." 

"  Yes,  dear,"  I  answered,  "  I  always 
urged  her  to  think  of  it  in  that  light  and 
to  trust  implicitly  in  the  Father's  tender 
care  and  never-failing  love;  but  it  is  diffi 
cult  for  us  to  see  beyond  the  lonely 
hearthstone  and  the  vacant  chair.  Still, 
I  believe  she  does  begin  to  dimly  grasp  the 
comfort  you  are  so  eager  to  impart." 

"  Ah,  if  only  she  knew  that  I  need  just 
that  to  complete  my  happiness  now!  We 
cannot  sorrow  here  as  we  did  on  earth,  be 
cause  we  have  learned  to  know  that  the 
Will  of  the  Father  is  always  tender  and 
wise;  but  even  heaven  can  never  be  com 
plete  for  me  while  I  know  that  my  pre 
cious  mother  is  forgetful  of  her  many  rare 
blessings,  simply  because  I  may  not  be 
with  her,  in  the  flesh,  to  share  them.  There 
is  my  father,  and  the  boys — why,  I  am  as 
truly  hers  still  as  they  are!  I  often  sit 
with  them  all,  with  her  hand  in  mine,  or 
my  arms  about  her  —  my  dear  little 


mother!  Why  must  she  see  me,  to  recog 
nize  this?  But  this  is  almost  complain 
ing,  is  it  not?  Some  day  she  will  know 
all  —  we  must  be  patient." 

As  we  walked  on  slowly,  conversing  of 
the  earth-life,  still  in  many  phases  so  dear 
to  us,  she  asking  eager  questions,  I  an 
swering  as  best  I  could,  we  saw  a  group 
of  four  persons,  three  women  and  a  man, 
standing  under  the  trees  a  little  to  one 
side  of  the  walk.  The  man's  back  was 
towards  us,  but  we  at  once  recognized  the 
Master.  The  women  were  all  strangers, 
and  one  of  them  seemed  to  have  just  ar 
rived.  Her  hand  the  Savior  held,  as  he 
talked  with  her,  while  all  were  intently 
listening  to  his  words.  We  regarded  the 
group  in  silence  as  we  slowly  passed,  not 
hoping  for  recognition  from  him  at  such 
a  time,  but  just  as  we  were  opposite  to 
them,  "  he  turned  and  looked  upon  "  us. 
He  did  not  speak  —  but  oh,  that  look! 
So  full  of  tenderness  and  encouragement 
and  benediction!  It  lifted  us,  it  bore  us 
upward,  it  enthralled  and  exalted  us;  and 
as  we  passed  onward,  the  clasp  of  our 
hands  tightened,  and  rapture  unspeakable 
flooded  our  hearts. 

We  finished  our  walk  in  silence,  and  sat 
down  on  the  marble  steps  in  the  shadow 
of  the  overhanging  trees.  The  dear 
child  nestled  close  against  my  side,  and 
laid  her  head  upon  my  shoulder,  while  I 
rested  my  cheek  caressingly  upon  it. 
After  a  time  I  whispered,  half  to  myself, 
"  Was  there  ever  such  a  look!" 


INTEA   MUROS. 


Instantly  she  raised  her  head  and  look 
ing  at  me,  said  eagerly:  "You  think  so 
too?  I  was  sure  you  would.  It  is  al 
ways  just  so.  If  he  is  too  much  engaged 
to  speak  to  you  at  the  time,  he  just  looks 
at  you,  and  it  is  as  though  he  had  talked 
a  long  while  with  you.  Is  he  not  won 
derful!  Why,  why  could  we  not  know 
him  on  earth  as  we  know  him  here?" 

"  How  long  were  you  here  before  you 
met  him?"  I  asked. 

"  Oh,  that  is  the  wonderful  part  of  it! 
His  was  the  first  face  I 
looked  upon  after  I  left 
the  body.  I  felt  bewil 
dered  when  I  first  real 
ized  that  I  was  free,  and 
I  stood  for  a  moment 
irresolute.  Then  I  saw 
him  standing  just  be 
side  me,  with  that  same  look  upon  his 
face.  At  first  I  felt  timid  and  half 
afraid.  Then  he  stretched  forth  his 
hand  to  me,  and  said  gently,  '  My 
child,  I  have  come  to  take  care  of  you; 
trust  me;  do  not  be  afraid.'  Then  I 
knew  him,  and  instantly  all  fear  left  me, 
and  I  clung  to  him  as  I  would  have  done 
to  either  of  my  brothers.  He  did  not  say 
much  to  me,  but  somehow  I  felt  that  he 
understood  all  of  my  thoughts.  After  a 
moment,  I  asked: 

"  '  May  I  not  remain  awhile  with  mam 
ma?  She  is  so  heart-broken.' 

" '  Yes,  dear  child,  as  long  as  you  de 
sire,'  he  answered  compassionately. 


"  '  Will  you  also  remain?'  I  asked,  for  I 
already  felt  I  could  not  bear  to  have  him 
leave  me. 

"  He  looked  much  pleased,  as  though 
he  divined  my  thought,  as  he  answered: 
'  Yes,  I  will  never  leave  you,  till  you  are 
ready  to  accompany  me.' 

"  Then  I  went  to  mamma  and  put  my 
arms  about  her,  and  presently  the  Master, 
too,  came  and  whispered  words  of  comfort 
to  her;  but  I  am  not  sure  she  recognized 
our  presence,  though  I  fancied  that  she 
grew  more  calm  beneath 
'  my  caresses.  We  staid 

till  all  was  over.  I 
never  left  mamma  an 
instant,  except  that 
twice  I  stole  to  poor 
little  Hal's  sick-room 
when  he  was  for  a 
short  time  alone.  I  have  always  felt 
that  he  recognized  my  presence  more 
than  any  of  them,  he  lay  so  still  and  calm 
when  I  talked  to  him.  He  seemed  to  be 
listening.  When  they  gathered  for  the 
last  time  about  my  casket,  it  seemed  to 
me  I  must  speak,  I  must  show  myself  to 
tLem!  Could  they  for  one  instant  have 
seen  my  living  self,  standing  so  calmly  in 
their  midst,  they  would  have  turned 
forever  from  the  lifeless  clay  they  had 
embalmed  and  beautified  for  the  tomb. 
They  would  have  known  I  was  not 
there.  But  they  would  not  recognize  the 
truth.  At  last  I  pleaded  with  the  Master 
to  let  me  show  myself  once  to  them, 


44 


1NTEA   MUBOS. 


there.  But  he  said,  '  It  is  not  the 
Father's  will.' 

"  After  that  I  accepted  fully  the 
Father's  will,  and  soon  thereafter  he 
brought  me  here  in  his  arms.  And  what 
a  blessed  life  it  is!" 

I  can  give  only  a  brief  outline  of  our 
conversation  on  that  first  happy  day.  It 
is  too  sacred  to  be  scanned  by  curious 
eyes.  We  talked  until  the  golden  twi 
light  fell,  and  we  watched  the  little  birds 
nestling  in  the  vines,  and  heard  afar  the 
solemnly  joyous  notes  of  the  angels' 
choral  song,  and  joined  our  voices  in  the 
hymn  of  praise.  Later  we  went  to  my 
room,  and  lay  down  upon  my  dainty 
couch  for  rest,  and  the  last  words  I  heard 
before  sinking  into  heaven's  blissful  sleep 
were,  tenderly  whispered :  "  Dear,  dear 
little  muzzer,  I  am  so  glad  and  happy  that 
you  are  here!" 

More  than  once  the  question  has  been 
asked,  "Was  there  night  there?"  Em 
phatically,  no!  What,  for  want  of  a  bet 
ter  designation,  we  may  call  "  day,"  was 
full  of  a  glorious  radiance,  a  roseate 
golden  light,  which  was  everywhere. 
There  is  no  language  known  to  mortals 
that  can  describe  this  marvelous  glory. 
It  flooded  the  sky;  it  was  caught  up  and 
reflected  in  the  waters;  it  filled  all  heaven 
with  joy  and  all  hearts  with  song.  After 
a  period  much  longer  than  our  longest 
earthly  day,  this  glory  mellowed  and  soft 
ened  until  it  became  a  glowing  twilight 
full  of  peace.  The  children  ceased  their 


playing  beneath  the  trees,  the  little  birds 
nestled  among  the  vines,  and  all  who  had 
been  busy  in  various  ways  throughout  the 
day  sought  rest  and  quiet.  But  there  was 
no  darkness,  no  dusky  shadows  even  — 
only  a  restful  softening  of  the  glory. 


CHAPTER  X. 

O   sweet  and   blessed   country, 

The  home  of  God's  elect! 
O  sweet  and  blessed  country 

That  eager  hearts  expect! 
There  stand   those   halls   of   Zion 

All  jubilant  with  song, 
And  bright  with  many  an  angel, 

And  all  the  martyr  throng. 

—  [St.  Bernard  of  C'.'.ny. 

OT  long  after  this  my 
brother  said,  "  Wo 
will  go  to  the  grand 
auditorium  this 
morning;  it  will  be 
a  rare  day  even  here. 
Martin  Luther  is  to  talk  on  '  The  Refor 
mation;  Its  Causes  and  Effects,'  and  this 
will  be  supplemented  by  a  talk  from  John 
Wesley.  There  may  also  be  other  speak 
ers." 

It  was  not  the  first  time  we  had  visited 
this  great  auditorium,  although  I  have 
not  hitherto  described  it.  It  stood  upon 
a  slight  eminence,  and  the  mighty  dome 
was  supported  by  massive  columns  of 
alternate  amethyst  and  jasper.  There 
were  no  walls  to  the  vast  edifice;  only  the 
great  dome  and  supporting  columns.  A 
broad  platform  of  precious  marbles,  inlaid 


INTRA   MUROS. 


45 


in  porphyry,  arose  from  the  center,  from 
which  the  seats  ascended  on  three  sides, 
forming  an  immense  amphitheater.  The 
seats  were  of  cedar  wood 
highly  polished;  and 
back  of  the  platform 
were  heavy  hangings  of 
royal  purple.  An  altar 
of  solid  pearl  stood  near 
the  center  of  the  plat 
form.  The  great 
dome  was  deep  and 
dark  in  its  immen 
sity,  so  that  only 
the  golden  statues 
around  its  lower  border 
were  distinctly  visible.  All 
this  I  had  noted  at  former 
visits. 

When    we    entered,    we 
found  the  building   filled 
with  people  eagerly  wait 
ing  for  what  was  to  follow. 
We  soon  were  seated  and 
also  waiting.     Soft  strains 
of       melody 
floated    about 
us,  from  an  in 
visible        choir, 
and  before  long 
Martin    Luther, 
in  the  prime  of  a  vigor 
ous     manhood,     ascended 
the  steps  and  stood  before 
us.     It  is  not  my  purpose 
to  dwell  upon  his  appear 


ance,  so  familiar  to  us  all,  except  to 
say  that  his  great  intellect  and  spiritual 
strength  seemed  to  have  added  to  his  al 
ready  powerful  physique,  and  made  him 
a  fit  leader  still,  even  in  heavenly  places. 
His  discourse  would  of  itself  fill  a  vol 
ume,  and  could  not  be 
given  even  in  outline,  in 
this  brief  sketch.  He  held 
us  enthralled  by  the  power 
of  his  will  and  his  elo 
quence.  When  he  at  length 
retired,  John  Wesley 
took  his  place,  and 
the  saintly  beauty  of 
his  face,  intensified 
by  the  heavenly 
light  upon  it,  was 
wonderful.  His 
theme  was  "  God's 
love;"  and  if  in  the 
earth -life  he 
dwelt  upon  it 
with  power,  he 
now  swept  our 
souls  with  the  fire 
of  his  exaltation,  until  we 
were  as  wax  in  his  hands. 
He  showed  what  that  love  had 
done  for  us,  and  how  an  eternity  of 
thanksgiving  and  praise  could  never  re 
pay  it. 

Silence,  save  for  the  faint,  sweet  mel 
ody  of  the  unseen  choir,  rested  upon  the 
vast  audience  for  some  time  after  he  left. 
All  seemed  lost  in  contemplation  of  the 


A6 


IXTRA    MUROS. 


theme  so  tenderly  dwelt  upon.  Then  the 
heavy  curtains  back  of  the  platform 
parted,  and  a  tall  form,  about  whom  all 
the  glory  of  heaven  seemed  to  center, 
emerged  from  their  folds  and  advanced 
toward  the  middle  of  the  platform.  In 
stantly  the  vast  concourse  of  souls  arose  to 
their  feet,  and  burst  forth  as  with  one 
voice  into  that  grand  anthem  in  which 
we  had  so  often  joined  on  earth: 

"  All  hail  the  power  of  Jesus'  name, 

Let  angels  prostrate  fall; 
Bring  forth  the  royal  diadem, 
And  crown  him  Lord  of  all." 

Such  a  grand  chorus  of  voices,  such 
unity,  such  harmony,  such  volume,  was 
never  heard  on  earth.  It  rose,  it  swelled, 
it  seemed  to  fill  not  only  the  great  audi 
torium,  but  heaven  itself.  And  still, 
above  it  all,  we  heard  the  voices  of  the 
angel  choir,  no  longer  breathing  the 
soft,  sweet  melody,  but  bursting  forth  into 
pagans  of  triumphant  praise.  A  flood  of 
glory  seemed  to  fill  the  place,  and  looking 
upward  we  beheld  the  great  dome  ablaze 
with  golden  light,  and  the  angelic  forms 
of  the  no  longer  invisible  choir  in  its 
midst,  with  their  heavenly  harps  and 
viols,  and  their  faces  only  less  radiant 
than  that  of  Him  in  whose  praise  they 
sang.  And  he,  before  whom  all  heaven 
bowed  in  adoration,  stood  with  uplifted 
face  and  kingly  mien,  the  very  God  of 
earth  and  heaven.  He  was  the  center  of 
all  light,  and  a  divine  radiance  surrounded 
him  that  was  beyond  compare. 


As  the  hymn  of  praise  and  adoration 
ceased,  all  sank  slowly  to  their  knees,  and 
every  head  was  bowed  and  every  face  cov 
ered  as  the  angel  choir  chanted  again  the 
familiar  words: 

"  Glory  be  to  the  Father,  and  to  the  Son,  and 
to  the  Holy  Ghost.  As  it  was  in  the  beginning, 
is  now,  and  ever  shall  be,  world  without  end. 
Amen,  Amen!" 

Slowly  the  voices  died  away,  and  a  holy 
silence  fell  upon  us.  Presently,  slowly 
and  reverently,  all  arose  and  resumed 
their  places.  'No,  not  all.  Sweet  Mary 
Bates  had  accompanied  us  to  the  sanctu 
ary,  and  I  now  noticed  that  she  alone  still 
knelt  in  our  midst,  with  clasped  hands 
and  radiant  uplifted  face,  her  lovely  eyes 
fixed  upon  the  Savior,  as  he  still  stood 
waiting  before  us,  with  such  a  look  of 
self-forgetful  adoration  and  love  as  made 
her  herself  truly  divine.  She  was  so  rapt 
I  dared  not  disturb  her;  but  in  a  moment 
the  Master  turned  and  met  her  adoring 
eyes  with  such  a  look  of  loving  recog 
nition,  that  with  a  deep  sigh  of  satisfied 
desire,  as  he  turned  again,  she  quietly 
resumed  her  seat  beside  me,  slipping  her 
little  hand  into  mine  with  all  the  confi 
dence  of  a  child  wrho  feels  sure  it  is  under 
stood  to  the  utmost. 

As  I  looked  upon  the  glorious  form  be 
fore  us,  clothed  in  all  the  majesty  of  the 
Godhead,  my  heart  tremblingly  asked: 
"  Can  this  indeed  be  the  Christ-man 
whom  Pilate  condemned  to  die  an  igno 
minious  death  upon  the  cross?"  I  could 


INTEA    MUEOS. 


47 


not  accept  it.  It  seemed  impossible  that  heavenly  joys.  There  is  a  depth,  a  mys- 
any  man,  however  vile,  could  be  blind  to  tery  to  all  that  pertains  to  the  divine  life, 
the  divinity  so  plainly  revealed  in  him. 
Then  the  Savior  began  to  speak,  and 


the  sweetness  of  his  voice  was  far  beyond 


which  I  dare  not  try  to  describe;  I  could 
not  if  I  would,  I  would  not  if  I  could. 
A  sacredness  enfolds  it  all  that  curious 
the  melody  of  the  heavenly  choir.  And  eyes  should  not  look  upon.  Suffice  it  to 
his  gracious  words!  Would  that  I  could,  say,  that  no  joy  we  know  on  earth,  how- 
would  that  I  dared,  transcribe  them  as  ever  rare,  however  sacred,  can  be  more 
they  fell  from  his  lips.  Earth  has  no  than  the  faintest  shadow  of  the  joy  we 
language  by  which  I  could  convey  their  there  find;  no  dreams  of  rapture,  here  un- 
lofty  meaning.  He  first  touched  lightly  realized,  approach  the  bliss  of  one  mo 
ment,  even,  in  that  divine 
world.  No  sorrow;  no 
pain;  no  sickness;  no 
death;  no  partings;  no 
disappointments;  no  tears 
but  those  of  joy;  no  broken 
hopes;  no  mislaid  plans; 
no  night,  nor  storm,  nor 
upon  the  earth-life,  and  showe'd  so  won-  shadows  even;  but  light  and  joy  and  love 
derfully  the  link  of  light  uniting  the  two  and  peace  and  rest  forever  and  forever, 
lives  —  the  past  with  the  present.  Then 
he  unfolded  to  us  some  of  the  earlier  mys-  ently,  "  Amen." 
teries  of  the  blessed  life,  and  pointed  out 
the  joyous  duties  just  before  us. 

When  he  ceased,  we  sat  with  bowed 
heads  as  he  withdrew.  Our  hearts  were 
so  enfolded,  our  souls  so  uplifted,  our 
spirits  so  exalted,  our  whole  being  so  per 
meated  with  his  divinity,  that  when  we 
arose  we  left  the  place  silently  and  rever 


Amen,"  and  again  my  heart  says  rever- 


CHAPTEE  XL 


ently,  each  bearing  away  a  heart  filled 
with  higher,  more  divine  aspirations,  and 
clearer  views  of  the  blessed  life  upon 
which  we  were  permitted  to  enter. 


Jerusalem!    Jerusalem! 

Thy  streets  of  pearl  and  gold 
Are  trod  by  the  blest  feet  of  them 

We  knew  and  loved  of  old. 
Their  voices  full  of  calm  delierht 

Steal  through  the  radiant  air  — 
Jerusalem!    Jerusalem! 

Our  hearts  are  with  them  there! 


S  the  days  passed  I  found  my  desires 
often  led  me  to  the  sacred  lake, 
sometimes  alone,  sometimes  with  one  or 


I    can   touch   but   lightly   upon   these    more  of  my  own  family  circle — my  revered 


48 


IXTEA   MUROS. 


father  and  precious  mother,  my  dear 
brother  and  sister,  and  many  beloved 
friends  both  within  and  without  the  bond 
of  consanguinity.  It  was  always  to  me  an 
inspiration  and  an  uplifting.  I  never 
could  grow  sufficiently  familiar  with  it  to 
overcome  the  first  great  awe  with  which 
it  inspired  me;  but  I  found  that  the 
oftener  I  bathed  or  floated  and  slept  in  its 
pellucid  current,  the  stronger  I  grew  in 
spirit,  and  the  more  clearly  I  compre 
hended  the  mysteries  of  the  world  about 
me. 

My  almost  daily  intercourse  with  the 
dear  ones  of  our  home  life  from  whom  I 
had  so  long  been  separated,  served  to  re 
store  to  me  the  home  feeling  that  had 
been  the  greatest  solace  of  my  mortal  life; 
and  I  began  to  realize  that  this  was  in 
deed  the  true  life,  instead  of  that  proba 
tionary  life  which  we  had  always  regarded 
as  such.  I  think  it  was  the  day  after  my 
return  from  my  first  visit  to  earth,  that,  as 
I  had  started  to  cross  the  sward  lying  be 
tween  my  father's  house  and  our  own,  I 
heard  my  name  called  in  affectionate 
tones.  I  turned  and  saw  approaching  me 
a  tall,  fine-looking  man,  whose  uncovered 
head  was  silvery  white,  and  whose  deep 
blue  eyes  looked  happily  and  tenderly  into 
mine,  as  he  drew  near. 

"  Oliver!"  I  cried  with  outstretched 
hands  of  welcome,  "  dear,  dear  Oliver!" 
It  was  the  husband  of  my  eldest  sister, 
always  dearly  loved. 

"  I  did  not  know  that  you  had  come, 


until  a  few  moments  since,  when  our 
father  told  me.  It  is  delightful  to  have 
you  here;  it  seems  more  like  the  old  life 
to  see  you  than  any  of  the  others  who  are 
here  —  we  were  together  so  much  during 
the  last  years  of  my  stay,"  he  said,  grasp 
ing  my  hands  warmly.  "  Where  are  you 
going  now?  Can  you  not  come  with  me 
awhile?  I  was  thinking  only  a  few  days 
ago  how  much  I  wished  you  could  be  here 
a  little  while  before  Lu  came;  you  know 
her  tastes  so  well.  And  now  here  you  are! 
So  often  our  unspoken  wishes  are  thus 
gratified  in  heaven!" 

"  Is  my  sister  coming  soon?"  I  asked  a 
little  later. 

"  That  I  cannot  confidently  say;  but 
you  know  the  years  of  the  earth-life  are 
passing,  and  her  coming  cannot  be  much 
longer  delayed.  Can  you  come  with  me 
now?" 

"  Gladly,"  I  said,  turning  to  walk  with 
him. 

"  It  is  only  a  little  way  from  here,"  he 
said.  "  Just  where  the  river  bends.  Lu 
loves  the  water  so,  I  chose  that  spot  in 
preference  to  one  even  nearer  your  home." 

"  This  is  truly  enchanting!"  I  cried,  as 
we  drew  near  the  place.  "  I  have  not 
been  this  way  before." 

"  I  want  you  to  see  the  river  from  her 
room  windows,"  he  said;  "  I  know  you  will 
enjoy  it." 

We  entered  the  truly  beautiful  house, 
built  of  the  purest  white  granite,  so  em 
bedded  in  the  foliage  of  the  flower-laden 


INTEA   MUBOS. 


49 


trees  that  from  some  points  only  glimpses 
of  its  fine  proportions  could  be  seen. 

"  She  loves  flowers  so  much  —  will  she 
not  enjoy  these  trees?"  he  asked  with  al 
most  boyish  delight. 

"  Beyond  everything,"  I  answered. 

We  passed  through  several  delightful 
rooms  on  the  lower  floor,  and,  ascending 
the  stairway,  which  in 
itself  was  a  dream  of 
beauty,  entered  the 
room  he  was  so  anxious 
I  should  see.  I  stopped 
upon  the  threshold 
with  an  exclamation 
of  delight,  while  he 
stood  watching  with 
keen  enjoyment  the 
expression  on  my 
face. 

"  It    is    the    most 
delightful    room    I 
ever  saw!"  I  cried  enthusiastic 
ally.  I 

The  framework  of  couches,  chairs 
and  desk  was  of  pure  and  spotless 
pearl,  upholstered  in  dim  gold;  soft  rugs 
and  draperies  everywhere;  and  through 
the  low  window,  opening  upon  the  flower- 
wreathed  balcony,  so  enchanting  a  view  of 
the  broad,  smooth  river  below,  that  again 
I  caught  my  breath  in  delight.  A  thou 
sand  exquisite  tints  from  the  heavens 
above  were  reflected  upon  the  tranquil 
waters,  and  a  boat  floating  on  the  cur 
rent  was  perfectly  mirrored  in  the  opal 


ine-tinted  ripples.  Far  across  the  shining 
waters  the  celestial  hills  arose,  with  domes 
and  pillared  temples  and  sparkling  foun 
tains  perceptible  everywhere.  When  at 
last  I  turned  from  this  entrancing  view,  I 
saw  on  the  opposite  wall,  smiling  down 
upon  me,  the  same  Divine  face  that  I 
daily  looked  upon  in  my  own  room  at 
home. 

We  descended  the 
stairs  without  a  word, 
then  I  could  only 
falter: 

"Only  heaven  could 
give  such  perfection 
in  everything!" 

Oliver  pressed  my 
hand  sympathetically, 
and  let  me  depart 
without  a  word. 

Many  months,  by 
earthly  time,  had 
passed  since  that  day, 
and  many  times  I  had 
visited  that  lovely 
home  and  held  sweet 
converse  with  one  I  loved  so  well.  I 
could  suggest  nothing  that  would  add  to 
the  beauty  of  the  place,  but  we  talked 
of  it  together,  and  planned  for  and  an 
ticipated  the  joy  of  her  coming. 

One  day  I  found  him  absent,  and 
though  I  waited  long  for  his  return,  he 
came  not.  I  had  not  seen  him  for  several 
days,  and  concluded  he  had  been  sent 
upon  some  mission  by  the  Master.  As  I 


50 


INTRA   MUROS. 


passed  onward  to  our  home,  I  met  a  group 
of  happy  young  girls  and  boys,  of  differ 
ent  ages,  hastening  the  way  I  had  come, 
with  their  arms  full  of  most  beautiful 
flowers.  As  they  drew  near  I  saw  they 
were  the  grandchildren  of  my  dear  sister 
—  Stanley  and  Mary  and  David  and  Lee 
and  little  Ruth.  As  soon  as  they  saw  me, 
they  all  with  one  accord  began  to  shout 
joyfully: 

"  Grandma  is  coming!  Grandma  is 
coming!  We  are  taking  flowers  to  scat 
ter  everywhere!  We  are  so  glad!" 

"  How  do  you  know  she  is  coming,  chil 
dren?  I  have  just  been  to  the  house  — 
no  one  is  there!'' 

"  But  she  is  coming,"  said  little  Lee. 
"  We  had  a  message  from  grandpa,  and  he 
is  to  bring  her." 

"  Then  I  will  tell  the  others,  and  we 
will  all  come  to  welcome  her,"  I  said. 

With  a  great  joy  in  my  heart  I  hastened 
onward  to  my  father's  house.  I  found 
them  awaiting  me,  full  of  joyful  expecta 
tion. 

"  Yes,  we  also  have  had  word,"  my 
father  said,  "  and  were  only  awaiting  your 
return,  that  we  might  go  together." 

"  Then  I  will  go  for  brother  Frank, 
that  he  also  may  accompany  us,"  I  said. 

"He  is  here!"  said  a  genial  voice;  and, 
looking  up,  I  saw  him  at  the  door. 

"  Col.  Sprague  is  always  present  when 
he  is  needed,"  said  my  father  cordially. 

So  we  set  forth,  a  goodly  company,  to 
welcome  this  dearly  loved  one  to  her 


home  —  my  father,  my  mother,  and  my 
sister  Jodie;  my  brother  the  doctor,  and 
his  two  fair  daughters;  my  Aunt  Gray,  her 
son  Martin,  and  his  wife  and  daughter; 
my  brother  Frank  and  I. 

As  we  approached  the  house  we  heard 
the  sound  of  joyous  voices,  and  looking 
in,  we  saw  my  sister  standing  in  the  room, 
her  husband's  arm  about  her,  and  the 
happy  grandchildren  thronging  around 
them,  like  humming  -  birds  among  the 
flowers.  But  what  was  this?  Could  this 
radiant  creature,  with  smooth  brow  and 
happy  eyes,  be  the  pale,  wan  woman  I  had 
last  seen,  so  bowed  with  suffering  and  sor 
row?  I  looked  with  eager  eyes.  Yes,  it 
was  my  sister;  but  as  she  was  full  thirty 
years  ago,  with  the  bloom  of  health  upon 
her  face,  and  the  light  of  youth  in  her 
tender  eyes.  I  drew  back  into  the  shadow 
of  the  vines  and  let  the  others  precede  me, 
for  my  heart  was  full  of  a  strange, 
triumphant  joy.  This  truly  was  the 
"  victory  over  death  "  so  surely  promised 
by  our  risen  Lord.  I  watched  the  happy 
greetings,  and  the  way  she  took  each  be 
loved  one  into  her  tender  arms.  When, 
one  by  one,  she  had  greeted  and  embraced 
them  all,  I  saw  her,  with  a  strange  yearn 
ing  at  my  heart,  turn  and  look  wistfully 
around,  then  whisper  to  my  father: 

"Is  not  my  little  sister  here?" 

I  could  wait  no  longer,  but,  hastening 
to  her  side,  cried: 

"  Dearest,  I  am  here!  Welcome!  Wel 
come!" 


INTEA   MUBOS. 


51 


She  folded  me  to  her  heart  and  held  me 
fast  in  her  warm  arms,  she  showered 
kisses  upon  my  upturned  face,  while  I 
returned  each  loving  caress,  and  laughed 
and  cried  for  very 
gladness  that  she  had 
come  at  last.  Oh, 
what  a  family  reunion  A 
was  that  inside  the 
walls  of  heaven!  And 
how  its  bliss  was  %^E 
heightened  by  the 
sure  knowledge  (not  the  hope) 
that  there  should  be  no  part 
ings  for  us  henceforth  forever! 

My  brother  Oliver  looked  on 
with    proud    and   happy   eyes. 
The   hour   for   which   he   had 
longed  and   waited  had  come 
to  him  at  last;  his  home-life 
would    now    be    complete    for 
evermore.     I  told  him  how  I 
had  waited  for  him  that  day, 
and  he  said,  "  We  saw  you  as 
you    left    the 
house,  but  were 
too    distant    to 
call  you.   I  had 
taken      her 
into      the 
river,    and    she 
had    looked    at 

and  admired  the  house  very  greatly  before 
she  knew  it  was  our  home.'" 

"  What  did  she  do  when  she  saw  her 
lovely  room?" 


6) 


"  Cried  like  a  child,  and  clung  to  me, 
and  said,  '  This  more  than  repays  us  for 
the  lost  home  of  earth!'  If  the  children 
had  not  come,  I  think  she  would  have 
been  at  that  window  still!"  he  said, 
laughing  happily. 

"  I  am  glad  you  had  her  all  to  your 
self  at  the  first,"  I  whispered;  "  you 
deserved  that  happiness,  dear,  if  any 
man  ever  did." 

He  smiled  gratefully,  and  looked 
over  at  his  wife,  where 
she  stood  the  center  of 
a  happy  group. 

"  Does  she  not  look 
very  young  to 
you,  Oliver?" 
I  asked. 

"The    years 
rolled      from 
her    like    a 
mask,     as     we 
sat      beneath 
the    water    in 
the  river.    Ah, 
truly   in   those 
life-giving    waters  -we 
do     all     '  renew     our 
youth ';    but    she    be 
came    at    once    uncommonly    fair    and 
young." 

"Her  coming  has  brought  youth  like 
wise  to  you,"  I  said,  noting  his  fresh  com 
plexion  and  his  sparkling  eyes;  "  but  I 
hope  it  will  not  change  your  silver  hair, 
for  that  is  to  you  a  crown  of  glory." 


52. 


INTEA   MU2WS. 


He  looked  at  me  a  moment  critically, 
then  said: 

"  I  wonder  if  you  realize  the  change 
that  has  likewise  come  to  you  in  this  won 
derful  clime?" 

"I?"  I  said,  a  little  startled  at  the 
thought;  "  I  confess  I  have  not  once 
thought  of  my  personal  appearance.  I 
realize  what,  through  the  Father's  mercy, 
this  lixe  has  done  for  me  spiritually,  but 
as  for  the  other,  I  have  never  given  it  an 
instant's  thought." 

"  The  change  is  fully  as  great  in  your 
case  as  in  Lu's,  though  with  you  the 
change  has  been  more  gradual,"  he  said. 

I  felt  a  strange  thrill  of  joy  that  when 
my  dear  husband  should  come  to  me,  he 
would  find  me  with  the  freshness  and 
comeliness  of  our  earlier  years.  It  was  a 
sweet  thought,  and  my  heart  was  full  of 
gratitude  to  the  Father  for  this  farther 
evidence  of  his  loving  care.  So  we  talked 
together  as  the  hours  sped,  until  my 
father  said: 

"  Come,  children;  we  must  not  forget 
that  this  dear  daughter  of  mine  needs 
rest  this  first  day  in  her  new  home.  Let 
us  leave  her  and  her  happy  husband  to 
their  new-found  bliss." 

So  with  light  hearts  we  went  our  way, 
and  left  them  to  spend  their  first  hours 
in  heaven  together. 


CHAPTER  XII. 


Holy,  holy,  holy!    All  the  saints  adore  Thee, 
Casting  down  their  golden  crowns  around  the 

glassy   sea; 
Cherubim    and    Seraphim    falling   down    before 

Thee, 

Which  wert,  and  art.  and  evermore  shalt  be. 
— [Bishop  Heber. 


FTKR  we  had  left  my 
parents  and  friends  on 
our  return  from  our 
welcome  to  my  sister, 
my  brother  hastened 
away  upon  some  mis 
sion,  and  I  walked  on 
alone  toward  the  sacred  lake.  I  felt  the 
need  of  a  rest  in  its  soothing  waters  after 
the  exciting  scenes  through  which  I  had 
passed.  I  had  hitherto  visited  the  lake  in 
the  early  morning  hours;  it  was  now  some 
thing  past  noontide  of  the  heavenly  day, 
and  but  few  persons  lingered  on  the 
shore.  The  boats  that  sped  across  its 
calm  surface  seemed  to  be  filled  rather 
with  those  intent  upon  some  duty  than 
simply  pleasure-seekers.  I  walked  slowly 
down  into  the  water,  and  soon  found  my 
self  floating,  as  at  former  times,  in  mid- 
current.  The  wonderful  prismatic  rays 
that  in  the  early  morning  were  such  a 
marvel,  now  blended  into  a  golden  glory, 
with  different  shades  of  rose  and  purple 
flashing  athwart  their  splendor.  To  me 
it  seemed  even  more  beautiful  than  the 
rainbow  tints;  just  as  the  maturer  joys  of 
our  earthly  life  cast  into  shadow,  some 
what,  the  more  evanescent  pleasures  of 


INTEA   MUROS. 


53 


youth.  I  could  but  wonder  what  its  even 
ing  glories  would  be,  and  resolved  to  come 
at  some  glowing  twilight,  and  see  if  they 
would  not  remind  me  of  the  calm  hours 
of  life's  closing  day.  I  heard  the  chimes 
from  the  silver  bell  of  the  great  city  ring 
ing  an  anthem  as  I  lay, 
and  its  notes  seemed  to 
clearly  chant: 

"  Holy!  Holy!  Holy! 
Lord  God  Almighty!" 
The  waters  took  up  the 
song  and  a  thousand 
waves  about  me  re 
sponded,  "Holy!  Holy! 
Holy!" 

The  notes  seemed  to 
""  vibrate,"  if  I  may 
use  the  expression, 
upon  the  waves,  pro 
ducing  a  wondrously 
harmonious  effect. 
The  front  row  in  the 
battalion  of  advancing 
waves  softly  chanted 
"''  Holy  "  as  they  passed 
•onward;  immediately  the  second  roll  of 
waves  took  up  the  word  that  the  first 
seemed  to  have  dropped  as  it  echoed 
the  second  "  Holy  "  in  the  divine  chorus, 
then  it,  too,  passed  onward  to  take  up 
the  second  note  as  the  third  advancing 
column  caught  the  first;  and  so  it  passed 
.and  echoed  from  wave  to  wave,  until  it 
seemed  millions  of  tiny  waves  about  me 
.had  taken  up  and  were  bearing  their  part 


in  this  grand  crescendo  —  this  wonderful 
anthem.  Language  fails  me  —  I  cannot 
hope  to  convey  to  others  this  experience 
as  it  came  to  me.  It  was  grand,  wonder 
ful,  overpowering.  I  lay  and  listened 
until  my  whole  being  was  filled  with  the 
divine  melody,  and  I 
seemed  to  be  a  part  of 
the  great  chorus,  then 
I,  too,  lifted  up  my 
voice  and  joined  with 
full  heart  in  the  thrill 
ing  song  of  praise. 

I  found  that,  con 
trary  to  my  usual  cus 
tom,  I  floated  rapidly 
away  from  the  shore 
whence  I  had  entered 
the  water,  and  after  a 
time  was  conscious 
that  I  was  approaching 
a  portion  of  the  lake 
shore  I  had  never  yet 
visited.  Refreshed 
and  invigorated,  I 
ascended  the  sloping 
banks,  to  find  myself  in  the  midst  of  a 
lovely  suburban  village,  similar  to  the  one 
where  our  own  home  was  situated.  There 
was  some  difference  in  the  architecture  or 
construction  of  the  houses,  though  they 
were  no  less  beautiful  than  others  I  had 
seen.  Many  were  constructed  of  pol 
ished  woods,  and  somewhat  resembled 
the  finest  of  the  chalets  one  sees  in 
Switzerland,  though  far  surpassing  them 


54 


INTRA   MVEOS. 


in  all  that  gives  pleasure  to  the  artistic 
eye. 

As  I  wandered  on,  feasting  my  eyes 
upon  the  lovely  views  about  me,  I  was  par 
ticularly  pleased  by  the  appearance  of  an 
unusually  attractive  house.  Its  broad 
verandas  almost  overhung  the  waters  of 
the  lake,  the  wide  low  steps  running  on 
one  side  of  the  house  quite  to  the  water's 
edge.  Several  graceful  swans  were  leis 
urely  drifting  about  with  the  current,  and 
a  bird  similar  to  our  Southern  mocking 
bird,  but  with  softer  voice,  was  singing 
and  swinging  in  the  low  branches  over 
head.  There  were  many  larger  and  more 
imposing  villas  near,  but  none  pos 
sessed  for  me  the  charm  of  this  sweet 
home. 

Beneath  one  of  the  large  flowering 
trees  close  by  this  cottage  home,  I  saw  a 
woman  sitting,  weaving  with  her  delicate 
hands,  apparently  without  shuttle  or 
needle,  a  snow-white  gossamer-like  fabric 
that  fell  in  a  soft  fleecy  heap  at  her  side 
as  the  work  progressed.  She  was  so  very 
small  in  stature  that  at  first  glance  I  sup 
posed  she  was  a  child;  but  a  closer  scru 
tiny  showed  her  to  be  a  mature  woman, 
though  with  the  glow  of  youth  still  upon 
her  smooth  cheek.  Something  familiar 
in  her  gestures,  rather  than  her  appear 
ance,  caused  me  to  feel  that  it  was  not  the 
first  time  we  had  met;  and  growing  accus 
tomed  now  to  the  delightful  surprises  that 
met  me  everywhere  in  this  world  of  rare 
delights,  I  drew  near  to  accost  her,  when, 


before  I  could  speak,  she  looked  up,  and 
the  doubt  was  gone. 

"Maggie!"  "Mrs.  Sprague  dear!"  we 
cried  simultaneously,  as,  dropping  her 
wrork  from  her  hands,  she  stepped  quickly 
up  to  greet  me. 

Our  greeting  was  warm  and  fervent, 
and  her  sweet  face  glowed  with  a  welcome 
that  reminded  me  of  the  happy  days  when 
we  had  met,  in  the  years  long  gone,  by 
the  shore  of  that  other  beautiful  lake  in 
the  world  of  our  earth-life. 

"  Now  I  know  why  I  came  this  way 
to-day  —  to  find  you,  dear,"  I  said,  as  we 
sat  side  by  side,  talking  as  we  never  had 
talked  on  earth;  for  the  sweet  shyness  of 
her  mortal  life  had  melted  away  in  the 
balmy  air  of  heaven. 

"  What  is  this  lovely  fabric  you  are 
weaving?"  I  presently  asked,  lifting  the 
silken  fleecy  web  in  my  fingers  as  I 
spoke. 

"  Some  draperies  for  Nellie's  room," 
she  said.  "  You  know  we  two  have  lived 
alone  together  so  much,  I  thought  it 
would  seem  more  like  home  to  her,  to  us 
both,  if  we  did  the  same  here.  So  this 
cottage  is  our  own  special  home,  just 
a  step  from  Marie's,"  pointing  to  an  im 
posing  house  a  few  yards  distant,  "  and  I 
am  fitting  it  up  as  daintily  as  I  can,  espe 
cially  her  room." 

"  Oh,  let  me  help  you,  Maggie  dear!"  I 
said.  "  It  would  be  such  a  pleasure  to 
me." 

She  hesitated  an  instant,  with  some- 


INTEA   MUBOS. 


55 


thing    of    the    old  -  time    shyness,    then 
said: 

"  That  is  so  like  you,  dear  Mrs. 
Sprague.  I  have  set  my  heart  on  doing 
Xellie's  room  entirely  myself  —  there  is 
no  hurry  about  it,  you  know  —  but  if  you 
really  would  enjoy  it,  I  shall  love  to  have 
you  help  me  in  the  other  rooms." 

"  And  will  you  teach  me 
how  to  weave  these  deli 
cate  hangings?" 

"Yes,  indeed. 
Shall  I  give  you 
your  first  lesson  ^ 
now?" 

Lifting  the  dainty 
thread,  she  showed 
me  how  to  toss  and 
wind  it  through  my  fingers  till  it  fell 
away  in  shining  folds.  It  was  very  light 
and  fascinating  work,  and  I  soon  was 
weaving  it  almost  as  rapidly  as  she  did. 

"Now,  I  can  help  Carroll!"  was  my 
happy  thought,  as  I  saw  the  shimmering 
fabric  grow  beneath  my  hands.  "  To 
morrow  I  will  go  and  show  him  how  beau 
tifully  we  can  drape  the  doors  and  win 
dows." 

So  in  heaven  our  first  thought  ever  is 
to  give  pleasure  to  others. 

"  You  are  an  apt  scholar,"  said  Maggie, 
laughing  happily;  "  and  what  a  charming 
hour  you  have  given  me!" 

"What  a  charming  hour  you  have  given 
me,  my  dear!"  I  answered. 

When  we  parted  it  was  with  the  under 


standing  that  evtry  little  while  I  was  to 
repeat  the  visit.  When  I  urged  her  like 
wise  to  come  to  me,  the  old-time  shyness 
again  appeared,  as  she  said: 

"  Oh,  they  are  all  strangers  to  me,  and 
here  we  shall  be  entirely  alone.  You 
come  to  me." 

So  I  yielded,  as  in  heaven  we  never  seek 
to  gain  reluctant  consent 
for  any  pleasure,  however 


dear;  and  many  were  the  happy  hours 
spent  with  her  in  the  cottage  by  the  lake. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

"  I  take  these  little  lambs,"  said  He* 
And  lay  them  in  my  breast; 

Protection  they  shall  find  in  Me, 
In  Me  be  ever  blest." 

— [Samuel  Stennett. 

one  of  my  walks  about  this 
time,    I    chanced    upon    a 
scene  that  brought  to  mind 
what  Mae  had  said  to  me 
about  the  Savior's  love  for 
little     children.      I     found 
him  sitting  beneath  one  of 
the  flowering  trees  upon  the  lake  shore, 
with  about  a  dozen  children  of  all  ages 
clustered  around  him.     One  dainty  little 


56 


1NTEA    MUROS. 


tot,  not  more  than  a  year  old,  was  nestled 
in  his  arms,  with  her  sunny  head  resting 
confidingly  upon  his  bosom,  her  tiny 
hands  filled  with  the  lovely  water  -  lilies 
that  floated  everywhere  on  the  waters. 
She  was  too  young  to  realize  how  great 
her  privilege  was,  but  seemed  to  be  en 
joying  his  care  to  the  utmost.  The 
others  sat  at  his  feet,  or  leaned  upon 
his  knees;  and  one  dear  little  fellow, 
with  earnest  eyes,  stood  by  him,  lean 
ing  upon  his  shoulder,  while  the  Mas 
ter's  right  arm  encircled  him.  Every  eye 
was  fixed  eagerly  upon  Jesus,  and  eacli 
child  appeared  alert  to  catch  every  word 
he  said.  He  seemed  to  be  telling  them 
some  very  absorbing  story,  adapted  to 
their  childish  tastes  and  capacities.  I  sat 
down  upon  the  sward  among  a  group  of 
people,  a  little  removed  from  the  children, 
and  tried  to  hear  what  he  was  saying,  but 
we  were  too  far  away  to  catch  more  than 
a  sentence  now  and  then,  and  in  heaven 
one  never  intrudes  upon  another's  priv 
ileges  or  pleasures.  So  we  simply  enjoyed 
the  smiles  and  eager  questions  and  excla 
mations  of  the  children,  and  gathered  a 
little  of  the  tenor  of  the  story  from  the 
disjointed  sentences  which  floated  to  us. 

"  A  little  child  lost  in  the  dark  woods 
of  the  lower  world — "  we  heard  the  Master 
say,  in  response  to  the  inquiring  looks  of 
the  interested  children. 

"  Lions  and  bears — "  came  later  on. 

"Where  was  his  papa?"  asked  an 
anxious  voice. 


We  could  not  hear  the  reply,  but  soon 
a  little  fellow  leaning  upon  the  Savior's 
knee,  said  confidently:  "  Xo  lions  and 
bears  up  here!" 

"  No,"  he  replied,  "  nothing  to  harm  or 
frighten  my  little  children  here." 

Then  as  the  story  deepened  and  grew 
in  interest,  and  the  children  pressed 
more  closely  about  the  Master,  he  turned 
with  a  sweet  smile  —  and  we  could  see  an 
increased  pressure  of  the  encircling 
arm  —  to  the  little  fellow  with  the  ear 
nest  eyes  who  leaned  upon  his  shoulder, 
and  said: 

"  What,  Leslie,  would  you  have  done, 
then?" 

With  a  bright  light  in  his  eyes  and  a 
flush  on  his  fair  cheek,  the  child  answered 
quickly  and  emphatically: 

"  I  should  have  prayed  to  Thee  and 
asked  Thee  to  '  close  the  lion's  mouth,'  as 
Thou  didst  for  Daniel,  and  Thou  wouldst 
have  done  it!" 

"Ah,"  I  thought,  "could  C and 

H see  the  look  the  beloved  Master 

cast  upon  their  boy  as  he  made  his  brave 
reply,  they  would  be  comforted  even  for 
the  absence  of  their  darling." 

Lost  in  these  thoughts,  I  heard  no  more 
that  passed,  until  an  ecstatic  shout  from 
the  little  folks  proclaimed  how  satisfac 
torily  the  story  had  ended,  and,  looking 
up,  I  saw  the  Savior  passing  onward,  with 
the  baby  still  in  his  arms,  and  the  chil 
dren  trooping  about  him. 

"  Of  such  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven." 


INTRA   MUROS. 


57 


How  well  he  understood!     How  much  he 
loved  them! 

I,  too,  arose  and  started  homeward.  I 
had  not  gone  far  before  I  met  my  brother 
Frank,  who  greeted  me  with: 

"  I  am  on  my  way  to  the  city  by  the 
lake;  will  you  accompany  me?" 

"  It  has  been  long  my  wish  to  visit  the 
city.  I  only  waited  until  you  thought  it 
wise  for  me  to  go,"  I  answered. 

"  You  are  growing  so  fast  in  the  knowl 
edge  of  the  heavenly 
ways,"  he  said,  "  that  I 
think  I  might  venture  to 
take  you  almost  any 
where  with  me  now. 
You  acquire  the  knowl- 
edge  for  the  very  love  of  '•$ 
it;  not  because  you  feel 
it  your  duty  to  know 
what  we  would  have  you 
learn.  Your  eagerness 
to  gather  to  yourself  all  truth,  and  at 
the  same  time  your  patient  submission 
in  waiting,  ofttimes  when  I  know  the 
trial  is  great,  have  won  for  you  much 
praise  and  love  from  our  dear  Master, 
who  watches  eagerly  the  progress  of  us 
all  in  the  divine  life.  I  think  it  only 
right  that  you  should  know  of  this;  we 
need  encouragement  here  as  well  as  in  the 
earth-life,  though  in  a  different  way.  I 
tell  you  this  by  divine  permission.  I 
think  it  will  not  be  long  before  He  trusts 
you  with  a  mission;  but  this  I  say  of  my 
self,  not  by  his  command." 


It  would  be  impossible  for  me  to  con 
vey,  in  the  language  of  earth,  the  impres 
sion  these  words  of  commendation  left 
upon  me.  They  were  so  unexpected,  so 
unforeseen.  I  had  gone  on,  as  my  brother 
said,  eagerly  gathering  the  knowledge  im 
parted  to  me,  with  a  genuine  love  for  the 
study  of  all  things  pertaining  to  the 
blessed  life,  without  a  thought  that  I  in 
any  way  deserved  commendation  for  so 
doing;  and  now  I  had  won  the  approba 
tion  of  the  Master  him- 
self!  The  happiness 
seemed  almost  more  than 
I  had  strength  to  bear. 

"  My  brother,  my  dear 
brother!"  was  all  I  could 
say,  in  my  deep  joy,  stop 
ping  suddenly  and  look 
ing  up  into  his  face  with 
grateful  tears. 

"  I  am  so  glad  for  you, 
little  sister!"  he  said,  warmly  clasping  my 
hand.  "  There  are,  you  see,  rewards  in 
heaven;  it  does  my  soul  good  that  you 
have  unconsciously  won  one  of  these  so 
soon." 

I  would  I  might  record  in  detail  the 
precious  words  of  wisdom  that  fell  from 
his  lips;  I  would  that  I  might  recount 
minutely  the  events  of  that  wonderful  life 
as  it  was  unfolded  to  me  day  by  day;  but  I 
can  only  say,  "  I  may  not."  When  I  un 
dertook  to  make  a  record  of  that  never-to- 
be-forgotten  time,  I  did  not  realize  how 
many  serious  difficulties  I  would  have  to 


58 


X  Til  A    MUIIOS. 


encounter;  how  often  I  would  have  to 
pause  and  consider  if  I  might  really  re 
veal  this  truth  or  paint  that  scene  as  it 
appeared  to  me.  The  very  heart  has 
often  been  left  out  of  some  wonderful 
scene  I  was  attempting  to  describe,  be 
cause  I  found  I  dared  not  reveal  its  sacred 
secret.  I  realize  painfully  that  the  narra 
tive,  as  I  am  forced  to  give  it,  falls  infin 
itely  short  of  what  I  hoped  to  make  it 
when  I  began.  But  bear  with  me;  it  is  no 
fancy  sketch  I  am  drawing,  but  the  ver 
itable  life  beyond,  as  it  appeared  to  me 
when  the  exalted  spirit  rose  triumphant 
over  the  impoverished  flesh,  made  slav 
ishly  subservient  through  suffering. 

My  brother  and  I  walked  slowly  back  to 
the  margin  of  the  lake,  where  we  stepped 
into  a  boat  lying  near  the  shore,  and  were 
at  once  transported  to  the  farther  shore  of 
the  lake,  and  landed  upon  a  marble  ter 
race —  the  entrance  to  the  city  by  the 
lake.  I  never  knew  by  what  power  these 
boats  were  propelled.  There  were  no 
oarsmen,  no  engine,  no  sails,  upon  the  one 
in  which  we  crossed  the  water;  but  it 
moved  steadily  onward  till  we  were  safely 
landed  at  our  destination.  Luxuriously- 
cushioned  seats  were  all  around  it,  and 
upon  one  of  them  lay  a  musical  instru 
ment,  something  like  a  violin,  although 
it  had  no  bow,  but  seemed  to  be  played  by 
the  fingers  alone.  Upon  another  seat  lay 
a  book.  I  picked  it  up  and  opened  it;  it 
seemed  to  be  a  continuation  of  that  book 
that  has  stirred  and  thrilled  millions  of 


hearts  in  the  mortal  life  —  "The  Great 
est  Thing  in  the  World."  As  I  glanced 
through  it  while  we  journeyed,  I  grasped 
the  truth  that  this  great  mind  already  had 
grappled  with  the  mighty  things  of  eter 
nity  and  given  food  to  immortals,  even  as 
he  had  to  those  in  mortal  life  in  the  years 
gone  by. 

I  was  roused  from  my  thoughts  by  the 
boat  touching  the  marble  terrace,  and 
found  my  brother  already  standing  and 
waiting  to  assist  me  to  the  shore.  Pass 
ing  up  a  slight  acclivity,  we  found  our 
selves  in  a  broad  street  that  led  into  the 
heart  of  the  city.  The  streets  I  found 
were  all  very  broad  and  smooth,  and 
paved  with  marble  and  precious  stones  of 
every  kind.  Though  they  were  thronged 
with  people  intent  on  various  duties,  not 
an  atom  of  debris,  or  even  dust,  was  vis 
ible  anywhere.  There  seemed  to  be  vast 
business  houses  of  many  kinds,  though  I 
saw  nothing  resembling  our  large  mer 
cantile  establishments.  There  were  many 
colleges  and  schools;  many  book  and 
music-stores  and  publishing  houses;  sev 
eral  large  manufactories,  where,  I  learned, 
were  spun  the  fine  silken  threads  of  mani 
fold  colors  which  were  so  extensively  used 
in  the  weaving  of  the  draperies  I  have  al 
ready  mentioned.  There  were  art  rooms, 
picture  galleries  and  libraries,  and  many 
lecture  halls  and  vast  auditoriums.  But  I 
saw  no  churches  of  any  kind.  At  first 
this  somewhat  confused  me,  until  I  re 
membered  that  there  are  no  creeds  in 


INTEA   MUROS. 


59 


-•*- 


heaven,  but  that  all  worship  together  in 
harmony  and  love  —  the  children  of  one 
and  the  same  loving  Father.     "  Ah,"  I 
thought,  "  what  a  pity  that  that  fact,  if  no 
other  in  the  great   economy  of  heaven, 
could  not  be  proclaimed  to  the  inhabit 
ants  of  earth!     How  it  would   do   away 
with  the  petty  contentions,  jealousies  and 
rivalries     of    the     church 
militant!      No      creeds 
in    heaven!      No    contro 
verted  points  of  doctrine! 
No       charges 
of     heresy 
brought       by 
one   professed 

Christian 

i 
against     a  n  - 

other!  No  building 
up  of  one  denomina 
tion  upon  the  ruins 
or  downfall  of  a  different  sect!  But  one 
great  universal  brotherhood  whose  head 
is  Christ,  and  whose  corner-stone  is  Love." 
I  thought  of  the  day  we  had  listened 
in  the  great  auditorium  at  home  to  the 
divine  address  of  our  beloved  Master; 
of  the  bowed  heads  and  uplifted  voices 
of  that  vast  multitude  as  every  voice 
joined  in  the  glorious  anthem,  "  Crown 
Him  Lord  of  all!"  and  I  could  have  wept 
to  think  of  the  faces  that  must  some  day 
be  bowed  in  shame  when  they  remember 
how  often  they  have  in  mortal  life  said  to 
a  brother  Christian,  "  Stand  aside;  I  am 
holier  than  thou!" 


We  found  no  dwelling-houses  anywhere 
in  the  midst  of  the  city,  until  we  came  to 
the  suburbs.     Here  they  stood  in  great 
magnificence    and    splendor.      But    one 
pleasing  fact  was  that  every  home  had  its 
large  door-yard,  full  of  trees  and  flowers 
and  pleasant  walks;  indeed,  it  was  every 
where,  outside  of  the  business  center  of 
the  town,  like  one  vast  park 
dotted    with    lovely    houses. 
*••*•'  >:~J£A^  ~ . 

Kftt         '-.-I 


There  was 
much  that 
c  h  a  r  m  e  d  , 
much  that 
surprised  me 
in  this  great 
city,  of  which  I  may  not 
fully  speak,  but  which  I 
never  can  forget.  We 
found  in  one  place  a  very 
large  park,  with  walks 
and  drives  and  fountains  and  miniature 
lakes  and  shaded  seats,  but  no  dwellings 
or  buildings  of  any  kind,  except  an  im 
mense  circular  open  temple  capable  of 
seating  many  hundred;  and  where,  my 
brother  told  me,  a  seraph  choir  assembled 
at  a  certain  hour  daily  and  rendered  the 
oratorios  written  by  the  great  musical 
composers  of  earth  and  heaven.  It  had 
just  departed,  and  the  crowd  who  had  en 
joyed  its  divine  music  yet  lingered  as 
though  loth  to  leave  a  spot  so  hallowed. 

"  We  will  remember  the  hour,"  my 
brother  said,  "  and  come  again  when  we 
can  hear  them." 


60 


TEA   MUKOS. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


Not  all  the  archangels  can  tell 
The  joys  of  that  holiest  place, 

Where  the  Father  is  pleased  to  reveal 
The  light  of  His  heavenly  face. 

— [Charles  Wesley. 

'  "  And  the  Temple  was  filled  with  smoke  from  the 
glory  of  God,  and  from  his  power.'"— Rev.  15:  8. 

TILL  passing  through  the 
park,  we  came  out 
upon  the  open  coun 
try,  and  walked  some 
distance  through 
flowery  meadows  and 
undulating  plains.  At  length  we  entered 
a  vast  forest  whose  great  trees  towered 
above  us  like  swaying  giants.  The  day 
was  well-nigh  spent  —  the  day  so  full  of 
joy  and  glad  surprises  and  happy  hours! 
Full  as  it  had  been  I  felt  there  was 
still  something  left  for  me,  deep  hid 
den  in  the  twilight-valley  of  the  day; 
something  that  held  my  soul  in  awe, 
as  the  last  moments  preceding  the  Holy 
Sacrament. 

My  brother  walked  by  me,  absorbed  in 
silent  thought,  but  with  a  touch  beyond 
even  his  usual  gentleness.  I  did  not  ask 
where  we  were  going  at  that  unusual 
hour,  so  far  from  home,  for  fear  and 
doubt  and  questionings  no  longer  vexed 
the  quiet  of  my  soul.  Although  the  forest 
was  dense,  the  golden  glow  of  the  twi 
light  rested  beneath  the  trees,  and  sifted 
down  through  the  quivering  branches 
•overhead,  as  though  falling  through  the 
windows  of  some  grand  cathedral. 


At  length  we  emerged  from  the  forest 
upon  a  vast  plain  that  stretched  out  into 
illimitable  space  before  us,  and  far  away 
we  faintly  heard  the  thunder  of  the  break 
ing  waves  of  that  immortal  sea  of  which 
I  had  heard  so  much  but  had  not  yet  seen. 
But  for  their  faint  and  distant  reverber 
ation  the  silence  about  us  was  intense. 
We  stood  a  moment  upon  the  verge  of  the 
forest,  then  as  we  advanced  a  few  steps 
into  the  plain  I  became  aware  that  imme 
diately  to  our  right  the  ground  rose  into 
quite  an  elevation;  and,  as  I  turned,  a 
sight  broke  upon  my  bewildered  eyes  that 
the  eternal  years  of  earth  and  heaven  can 
never  efface.  Upon  the  summit  of  this 
gentle  slope  a  Temple  stood,  whose  vast 
dome,  massive  pillars  and  solid  walls  were 
of  unsullied  pearl,  and  through  whose 
great  mullioned  windows  shone  a  white 
radiance  that  swallowed  up  the  golden 
glow  of  the  twilight  and  made  it  its  own. 
I  did  not  cry  aloud  nor  hide  my  face,  as 
at  former  revelations;  but  I  sank  slowly  to 
my  knees,  and,  crossing  my  hands  upon 
my  breast,  with  uplifted  face,  stilled 
heart  and  silent  lips,  laid  my  whole  being 
in  worship  at  His  feet  "  who  sitteth  upon 
the  throne."  How  long  I  knelt  thus  I 
know  not.  Even  immortal  life  seemed 
lost  before  that  greatest  of  celestial  mys 
teries.  At  length  my  brother,  who  had 
been  silently  kneeling  beside  me,  arose, 
and,  lifting  me  to  my  feet,  whispered 
gently,  "  Come." 

I  felt  rather  than  saw  that  his  face  was 


INTEA   MUEOS. 


61 


colorless  with  the  depth  of  his  emo 
tion,  and  I  yielded  to  his  guidance  in  si 
lence.  A  long  flight  of  low,  broad  steps, 
in  gradations,  rose  from  almost  where  we 
stood  to  the  very  door  of  the  Temple. 
They,  too,  were  of  solid  pearl,  bordered  on 
either  side  by  channels  paved  with  golden 
stones  through  which  coursed  crystal 
waters  that  met  and  mingled  in  one 
stream  far  out  upon  the  plain.  Ascend 
ing  these  steps,  we  en 
tered  the  Temple,  and 
for  a  moment  stood  in 
silence.  I  do  not  know 
how  it  was,  but  in  that 
brief  instant  —  it  may 
have  been  longer  than 
I  knew  —  every  detail 
of  that  wonderful  in 
terior  was  fastened  upon  my  memory  as  a 
scene  is  photographed  upon  the  artist's 
plate.  Heretofore  it  had  taken  repeated 
visits  to  a  room  to  enable  me  to  correctly 
describe  it  in  detail,  but  this,  in  a  light 
ning's  flash,  was  stamped  upon  the  tablet 
of  my  memory  indelibly  for  all  time  — 
nay,  for  eternity. 

The  immense  dome,  at  that  moment 
filled  with  a  luminous  cloud,  was  upheld 
by  three  rows  of  massive  pillars  of  gold. 
The  walls  and  floors  were  of  pearl,  as  also 
the  great  platform  that  filled  at  least  one- 
third  of  the  Temple  upon  the  eastern 
side.  There  were  no  seats  of  any  kind. 
The  great  golden  pillars  stood  like  rows  of 
sentinels  upon  the  shining  floor.  A  rail 


ing  of  gold  ran  entirely  around  the  plat 
form  upon  the  three  sides,  so  that  it  was 
inaccessible  from  the  body  of  the  Temple. 
Beneath  this  railing,  upon  the  temple- 
floor,  a  kneeling-step  passed  around  the 
platform,  also  of  pearl.  In  the  center  of 
the  platform  an  immense  altar  of  gold 
arose,  supported  by  seraphs  of  gold  with 
outspread  wings,  one  at  each  corner;  and 
underneath  it,  in  a  great  pearl  basin, 
a  fountain  of  sparkling 
water  played,  and  I 
knew  intuitively  it  was 
the  source  of  the  magi 
cal  river  that  flowed 
through  the  gardens  of 
heaven  and  bore  from 
us  the  last  stains  of 
death  and  sin. 

Nothing  living,  beside  ourselves,  was 
within  the  Temple  except  two  persons 
who  knelt  with  bowed  heads  beside  the 
altar-rail  upon  the  farther  side;  but  by 
the  altar  stood  four  angels,  one  upon 
either  side,  dressed  in  flowing  garments 
of  white,  with  long,  slim  trumpets  of  gold 
uplifted  in  their  hands,  as  though  waiting 
in  expectancy  the  signal  for  their  trumpet 
call.  Long  draperies  of  silvery  gossamer 
hung  in  heavy  folds  back  of  the  altar 
platform.  Suddenly,  in  the  moment  that 
we  looked,  we  saw  the  draperies  tremble 
and  glow  until  a  radiance  far  beyond  the 
splendor  of  the  sun  at  midday  shone 
through  them,  and  the  whole  Temple  was 
"  filled  with  the  glory  of  the  Lord."  We 


62 


INTEA   MUEOS. 


saw,  in  the  midst  of  the  luminous  cloud 
that  filled  the  dome,  the  forms  of  angelic 
harpers,  and  as  we  dropped  with  bowed 
heads  beside  the  altar-rail  and  hid  our 
faces  from  the  "  brightness  of  His  com 
ing,"  we  heard  the  trumpet-call  of  the 
four  angels  about  the  altar,  and  the 
voices  of  the  celestial  harpers  as  they  sang: 

"  Holy,  Holy.  Holy.  Lord  God  Almighty! 

All  thy  works  shall  praise  thy  name,  in  earth, 

and  sky,  and  sea. 

Holy,  Holy,  Holy,  merciful  and  mighty, 
<Jod  in  three  persons — blessed  Trinity.    Amen!" 

The  voices  softly  died  away;  the  last 
notes  of  the  golden  trumpets  had 
sounded;  "and  there  was  silence  in 
heaven."  We  knew  that  the  visible  glory 
of  the  Lord  was,  for  the  present,  with 
drawn  from  the  Temple  which  is  his 
throne;  still  we  knelt  with  bowed  heads 
in  silent  worship  before  him.  When  at 
last  we  arose  I  did  not  lift  my  eyes  while 
within  the  Temple;  I  desired  it  to  remain 
upon  my  memory  as  it  appeared  when 
filled  with  his  glory. 

We  walked  some  time  in  silence,  I  lean 
ing  upon  my  brother's  arm,  for  I  yet 
trembled  with  emotion.  I  was  surprised 
that  we  did  not  return  into  the  forest, 
but  went  still  farther  out  upon  the  plain. 
But  when  I  saw  that  we  approached  the 
confluence  of  the  two  streams  which 
issued  from  the  fountain  beneath  the 
altar,  I  began  to  understand  that  we 
would  return  by  way  of  the  river,  instead 
of  by  forest  and  lake. 


We  reached  the  stream,  at  length,  and, 
stepping  into  a  boat  that  lay  by  the  shore, 
we  were  soon  floating  with  the  current 
toward  home.  We  passed  through  much 
beautiful  scenery  on  our  course  that  I  had 
not  seen  before,  and  which  I  resolved  I 
would  visit  in  the  future,  when  leisure 
from  my  daily  duties  would  permit. 
Lovely  villas,  surrounded  by  beautiful 
grounds  stretching  directly  up  from  the 
water's  edge,  lay  on  both  sides  of  the 
river,  and  formed  a  panorama  upon  which 
the  eye  never  tired  of  resting.  Toward 
the  end  of  the  journey  we  passed  my  sis 
ter's  lovely  home,  and  we  could  plainly  sec 
her  and  her  husband  drinking  in  the 
scene  with  enraptured  eyes,  from  the  win 
dow  of  her  own  room. 

My  brother  and  I  were  both  silent  tho 
greater  part  of  the  time  during  our  jour 
ney  homeward,  though  each  noted  with 
observant  eyes  the  signs  of  happy  domes 
tic  life  by  which  we  were  surrounded  on 
every  side.  The  verandas  and  steps  of 
the  homes  we  passed  were  full  of  their 
happy  inmates;  glad  voices  could  be  con 
stantly  heard,  and  merry  shouts  of  laugh 
ter  came  from  the  throngs  of  little  chil 
dren  playing  everywhere  upon  the  flowery 
lawns.  Once  I  broke  our  silence  by  say 
ing  to  my  brother: 

"  I  have  been  more  than  once  delight 
fully  surprised  to  hear  the  familiar  songs 
of  earth  reproduced  in  heaven,  but  never 
more  so  than  I  was  to-day.  That  hymn 
has  long  been  a  favorite  of  mine." 


I  NTH  A    MUEOS. 


63 


"  These  happy  surprises  do  not  come  by 
chance,"  he  answered.  "  One  of  the  de 
lights  of  this  rare  life  is  that  no  occasion 
is  ever  overlooked  for  reproducing  here 
the  pure  enjoyments  of  our  mortal  life. 
It  is  the  Father's  pleasure  to 
make  us  realize  that  this  exist 
ence  is  but  a  continuance  of 
the  former  life,  only  without 
its  imperfections  and  its  cares." 

"  Frank,  I  believe  you  are 
the  only  one  of  our  friends 
here  who  has  never  questioned 
me  about  the  dear  ones  left  be 
hind;  why  is  it?" 

He  smiled  a  peculiarly  happy 
smile  as  he  answered:  "Per 
haps  it  is  because  I  already 
know  more  than  you  could  tell 
me." 

"  I  wondered  if  it  was  not 
so,"  I  said,  for  I  remembered 
well  how  my  dear  father  had 
said,  in  speaking  of  my  brother 
upon  the  first  day  of  my  com 
ing,  "  He  stands  very  near  to 
the  Master,"  and  I  knew  how 
often  he  was  sent  upon  mis 
sions  to  the  world  below. 

I  lay  down  upon  my  couch,  on  our  re 
turn,  with  a  heart  overflowing  with  joy 


"  I  will  reach  the  standard  of  perfec 
tion  you  have  set  for  me,  my  Savior,"  I 
faltered,  with  clasped  hands  uplifted  to 
him,  "  if  it  takes  all  my  life  in  heaven  and 
all  the  help  from  all  the  angels  of  light  to 
accomplish  it;"  and  with  these 
words  upon  my  lips,  and  his 
tender  eyes  resting  upon  me,  I 
sank  into  the  blissful  repose  of 
heaven. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

I  shall   know  the  loved  who  have 

gone  before, 

And  joyfully  sweet  will  the  meet 
ing  be, 
When  over  the  river,  the  peaceful 

river, 

The  Angel  of  Death  shall  carry 
me. 

—[Nancy  A.  W.  Priest. 

(P  0  much  occurred,  and  so 
/~*~^  rapidly,  from  the  very 
hour  of  my  entrance  within 
the  beautiful  gates,  that  it  is 
impossible  for  me  to  transcribe 
it  all.  I  have  been  able  only  to 
cull  here  and  there  incidents 
that  happened  day  by  day;  and 
in  so  doing  many  things  I 
would  gladly  have  related  have  uncon 
sciously  been  omitted.  Of  the  many 


and  gratitude  and  love,  beyond  the  power    dear    friends    I    met,    only    a    very    few 


of  expression;  and  it  segued  to  me  the 
tenderness  in  the  Livine  eyes  that  looked 
down  upon  .v,e  from  the  wall  was  deeper, 
purer,  holier  than  it  had  ever  been  before. 


have  been  mentioned,  for  the  reason  that, 
of  necessity,  such  meetings  are  so  similar 
in  many  respects  that  the  constant  repe 
tition,  in  detail,  would  become  wearisome. 


64 


INTEA   MUROS. 


I  have  aimed  principally  to  give  such  in 
cidents  as  would  show  the  beautiful 
domestic  life  in  that  happy  world;  to 
make  apparent  the  reverence  and  love  all 
hearts  feel  toward  the  blessed  Trinity  for 
every  good  and  perfect  gift,  and  to  show 
forth  the  marvelous  power  of  the  Christ- 
love  even  in  the  life  beyond  the  grave. 

This  world,  strange  and  new  to  me, 
held  multitudes  of  those  I  had  loved  in 
the  years  gone  by,  and  there  was  scarcely 
an  hour  that  did  not  renew  for  me  the  ties 
that  once  were  severed  in  the  mortal  life. 
I  remember  that  as  I  was  walking  one 
day  in  the  neighborhood  of  Mrs.  Wick- 
ham's  home,  shortly  after  my  first  memor 
able  visit  there,  I  was  attracted  by  an  un 
pretentious  but  very  beautiful  house,  al 
most  hidden  by  luxuriant  climbing  rose 
vines,  whose  flowers  of  creamy  whiteness 
were  beyond  compare  with  any  roses  I  had 
yet  seen  in  earth  or  heaven.  Meeting 
Mrs.  Wickham,  I  pointed  to  the  house  and 
asked:  "  Who  lives  there?" 

"  Suppose  you  go  over  and  see,"  she 
said. 

"  Is  it  any  one  I  know?"  I  asked. 

"  I  fancy  so.  See,  someone  is  even  now 
at  the  door  as  though  expecting  you." 

I  crossed  over  the  snowy  walk  and 
flowery  turf  —  for  the  house  stood  in  an 
angle  formed  by  two  paths  crossing,  al 
most  opposite  Mrs.  Wickham's  —  and  be 
fore  I  could  ascend  the  steps  I  found  my 
self  in  the  embrace  of  two  loving  arms. 

"Bertha  Sprague!     I  was  sure  it  was 


you  when  I  saw  you  go  to  Mrs.  Wick- 
ham's  a  day  or  two  ago.  Did  not  she  tell 
you  I  was  here?" 

"  She  had  no  opportunity  until  to 
day,"  I  said.  "  But  dear  Aunt  Ann,  I 
should  have  found  you  soon;  I  am  sure 
you  know  that." 

"  Yes,  I  am  sure  you  would." 

Then  I  recounted  to  her  something  of 
my  visit  to  Mrs.  Wickham's  that  eventful 
day.  She  listened  with  her  dear  face  full 
of  sympathy,  then  said: 

"  There,  dear,  you  need  not  tell  me. 
Do  I  not  know?  When  the  Master  comes 
to  gladden  my  eyes,  I  have  no  thought  or 
care  for  anything  beyond,  for  days  and 
days!  Oh,  the  joy,  the  peace  of  knowing 
I  am  safe  in  this  blessed  haven!  How 
far  beyond  all  our  earthly  dreams  is  this 
divine  life!" 

She  sat  for  a  moment  lost  in  thought, 
then  said  wistfully:  "  Now,  tell  me  of 
my  children  —  are  they  coming?" 

I  gladdened  her  heart  with  all  the 
cheering  news  I  could  bring  of  her  loved 
ones;  and  so  we  talked  the  hours  away,, 
recalling  many  sweet  memories  of  the 
earth-life,  of  friends  and  home  and  family 
ties,  and  looking  forward  to  the  future 
coming  to  us  of  those  whom  even  the  joys 
of  heaven  could  not  banish  from  our 
hearts. 

Then  also  another  evening,  as  the  soft 
twilight  fell,  and  many  of  our  dear  home 
circle  were  gathered  with  us  in  the  great 
"  flower-room,"  we  heard  a  step  upon  the 


INTEA   MUEOS. 


65 


veranda,  and  as  my  brother  went  to  the 
open  door  a  gentle  voice  said: 

"  Is  Mrs.  Sprague  really  here?" 

"  She  is  really  here.  Come  and  see  for 
yourself."  And  sweet  Mary  Green  en 
tered  the  room. 

"  I  am  so  glad  to  welcome  you  home!" 
she  said,  coming  to  me  with  extended 
hands,  and  looking  into  mine 
with  her  tender,  earnest  eyes. 

"My  precious  girl!"  I 
cried,  taking  her  to  my  heart 
in  a  warm  embrace.  "  I 
have  been  asking  about  you, 
and  longing  to  see  you." 

"  I  could  scarcely  wait  to 
reach  here  when  I  heard  that 
you  had  come.  Now,  tell  me 
everything  —  everything!" 
she  said  as  I  drew  her  to  a 
seat  close  beside  me. 

But  the  questions  asked 
and  the  answers  given  are 
too  sacred  for  rehearsal  here. 
Every  individual  member  of 
her  dear  home-circle  was  dis 
cussed,  and  many  were  the  incidents  she 
recounted  to  me  that  had  occurred  in  her 
presence  when  her  mother  and  I  were 
together  and  talking  of  the  dear  child  we 
considered  far  removed  from  our  pres 
ence. 

"  I  was  often  so  close  that  I  could  have 
touched  you  with  my  hand,  had  the 
needed  power  been  given,"  she  said. 

After  a  long,  close  converse  had  been 


held  between  us,  I  took  her  to  the  library, 
whither  the  rest  had  gone  to  examine  a 
new  book  just  that  day  received.  I  intro 
duced  her  to  them  all  as  the  daughter 
of  dear  friends  still  on  earth,  confident 
of  the  welcome  she  would  receive.  My 
youngest  sister  and  she  at  once  became  in 
terested  in  each  other,  finding  congeni 
ality  in  many  of  their  daily 
pursuits,  and  I  was  glad  to 
believe  they  would  hence 
forth  see  much  of  each  other 
in  many  different  ways. 

There  was  no  measure 
ment  of  time  as  we  measure 
it  here,  although  many  still 
spoke  in  the  old-time  lan 
guage  of  "  months "  and 
"days"  and  "years."  I 
have  no  way  of  describing  it 
as  it  seemed  to  me  then. 
There  were  periods,  and  al 
lotted  times;  there  were 
hours  for  happy  duties, 
hours  for  joyful  pleasures, 
and  hours  for  holy  praise. 
I  only  know  it  was  all  harmony,  all  joy, 
all  peace,  at  all  times  and  in  all  con 
ditions. 

*• — 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

There  is  an  endearing  tenderness  in  the  love 
of  a  mother  to  a  son,  that  transcends  all  other 
affections  of  the  heart.  It  is  neither  to  be 
chilled  by  selfishness,  nor  daunted  by  danger, 
nor  weakened  by  worthlessness,  nor  stifled  by 
ingratitude.  She  will  sacrifice  every  comfort 


1NTRA    MUROS. 


to  his  convenience;  she  will  surrender  every 
pleasure  to  his  enjoyment;  she  will  glory  in  his 
fame,  and  exult  in  his  prosperity;  and  if  ad 
versity  overtake  him,  he  will  be  the  dearer  to 
her  by  misfortune;  and  if  disgrace  settle  upon 
his  name,  she  will  still  love  and  cherish  him; 
and  if  all  the  world  beside  cast  him  off,  she 
will  be  all  the  world  to  him. — [Washington 
Irving. 

^  HE  current  of  my 
life  flowed  on  in 
the  heavenly  ways, 
until  the  months 
began  to  lengthen 
into  years  and  my 
daily  studies  as 
cended  higher  in 
the  scale  of  celes 
tial  mysteries.  I 
never  wearied  of  study,  though  much  was 
taught  and  gained  through  the  medium 
of  observation  in  the  journeys  that  I  was 
permitted  to  take  with  my  brother  into 
different  parts  of  the  heavenly  kingdom. 
I  never  lacked  time  for  social  pleasures 
and  enjoyments,  for  there  is  no  clashing 
of  duties  with  inclination,  no  unfulfilled 
desires,  no  vain  strivings  for  the  unattain 
able  in  that  life,  as  in  the  life  of  earth. 
Many  precious  hours  of  intercourse  were 
spent  in  my  dear  father's  home,  and  some 
times  on  rare  occasions  I  was  permitted  to 
accompany  him  to  his  field  of  labor  and 
assist  him  in  instructing  those  lately 
come  into  the  new  life  with  little  or  no 
preparation  for  its  duties  and  responsi 
bilities.  On  one  occasion  he  said  to  me: 
"  I  have  the  most  difficult  problem  to 
deal  with  I  have  ever  yet  met  in  this  work. 


It  is  how  to  enlighten  and  help  a  man 
who  suddenly  plunged  from  an  appar 
ently  honorable  life  into  the  very  depths 
of  crime.  I  have  never  been  able  to  get 
him  to  accompany  me  to  the  river,  where 
these  earthly  cobwebs  would  be  swept 
from  his  poor  brain;  his  excuse  being  al 
ways  that  God's  mercy  is  so  great  in  allow 
ing  him  inside  heaven's  gates  at  all,  that 
he  is  content  to  remain  always  in  its  low 
est  scale  of  enjoyment  and  life.  Xo  argu 
ment  or  teaching  thus  far  can  make  him 
alter  his  decision.  He  was  led  astray  by 
infatuation  for  a  strange  woman,  and 
killed  his  aged  mother  in  order  to  secure 
her  jewels  for  this  wretched  creature.  lie 
was  executed  for  the  crime,  of  which  in 
the  end  he  sincerely  repented,  but  he  left 
life  with  all  the  horror  of  the  deed  cling 
ing  to  his  soul." 

"  Has  he  seen  his  mother  since  coming 
here?  Does  she  know  of  his  arrival?" 

"  Xo;  she  is  entirely  alone  in  this  world, 
and  it  was  not  thought  wise  to  tell  her  of 
his  coming  till  his  soul  was  in  a  better 
condition  to  receive  her.  He  was  an  only 
child,  and  does  not  lack  the  elements  of 
refinement,  but  he  was  completely  under 
the  control  of  this  vile  though  fascinating 
woman.  It  is  said  she  drugged  his  wine 
and  incited  him  to  do  the  dreadful  deed 
while  under  its  influence,  because  of  her 
hatred  for  his  mother,  whose  influence 
was  against  her.  When  he  came  from 
under  the  influence  of  the  wine,  he  was 
horrified  at  what  he  had  done,  and  his  in- 


IXTBA   MUROS. 


fatuation  for  the  woman  turned  to  loath 
ing —  but,  alas,  too  late!  lie  would  not 
see  her  during  his  entire  incarceration." 

"  How  long  was  he  in  prison?" 

"  Almost  a  year." 

"  Has  he  seen  the  Christ?" 

"  Xo;  he  begs  not  to  see  him.  He  is 
very  repentant,  and  grateful  to  be  saved 
from  the  wrath  he  feels  was  his  just 
punishment;  but  though  he  is  con 
scious  that  his  sin  is 
forgiven,  he  does  not 


67 

I  soon  was  on  my  way.  I  found  the 
poor  woman,  laid  the  facts  gently  before 
her,  and  waited  her  decision.  There  was 
no  hesitancy  upon  her  part;  in  an  instant 
she  said,  "  My  poor  boy!  Certainly  I 
will  go  with  you  at  once." 

We  found  my  father  waiting  for  us,  and 
went  immediately  to  the  great  "  Home  " 
where  these  —  "  students,"  would  we  call 

them?  —  stayed.  It  was  a  beautiful 
great  building  in 
the  midst  of  a  park, 


yet  feel  that  he  can 
ever  stand  in  the 
presence  of  the  Holy  One.  And 
here,  as  upon  earth,  each  must  be  will 
ing  to  receive  him.  His  presence  is 
never  given  undesired.  I  have  not  yet 
appealed  for  higher  help;  my  ambition  is 
to  lead  these  weak  souls  upward  through 
the  strength  entrusted  to  me.  Can  you 
suggest  anything  that  would  probably 
reach  him?" 

"  His  mother.     May  I  bring  her?" 
He  thought  a  moment  reflectively,  then 
said:      "  A     woman's     intuition.       Yes, 
her." 


with  shaded  walks 
and  fountains  and 
flowers  everywhere.  To  one  just  freed 
from  earth  it  seemed  a  paradise  indeed; 
but  to  those  of  us  who  had  tasted  heaven's 
rarer  joys,  something  was  wanting.  We 
missed  the  lovely  individual  homes,  the 
little  children  playing  on  the  lawns,  the 
music  of  the  angel  choir;  it  was  tame  in 
deed  beside  the  pleasures  we  had  tasted. 

We  found  the  young  man  seated  be 
neath  one  of  the  flower-laden  trees,  in 
tently  perusing  a  book  that  my  father  had 
left  with  him.  There  was  a  peaceful  look 
on  his  pale  face,  but  it  was  rather  the  look 


68 


INTEA   MUROS. 


of  patient  resignation  than  of  ardent  joy. 
His  mother  approached  him  alone;  my 
father  and  I  remaining  in  the  back 
ground.  After  a  little  time  he  glanced 
up  and  saw  his  mother  standing  near  him. 
A  startled  look  came  into  his  face,  and  he 
rose  to  his  feet.  She  extended  her  arms 
toward  him,  and  cried  out  pathetically, 
"  John,  my  dear  boy,  come  home  to  me  — 
I  need  you!"  That  was  all. 

With  a  low  cry  he  knelt  at  her  feet  and 
clasped  her  knees,  sobbing:  "Mother! 
mother!" 

She  stooped  and  put  her  tender  arms 
about  him;  she  drew  his  head  gently  to 
her  breast  and  showered  kisses  on  his 
bowed  head.  Oh,  the  warm  mother-love, 
the  same  in  earth  and  heaven!  Only  the 
Christ-love  can  exceed  it.  Here  was  this 
outraged  mother,  sent  into  eternity  by  the 
hands  of  him  who  should  have  shielded 
and  sustained  her,  bending  above  her  re 
pentant  son  with  the  mother-love  with 
which  her  heart  was  overflowing  shining 
upon  him  from  her  gentle  eyes.  I  saw 
my  father  turn  his  head  to  conceal  his 
emotion,  and  I  knew  that  my  own  eyes 
were  wet.  My  father  had  explained  to 
the  mother  that  the  first  thing  to  be  ac 
complished  was  to  get  her  son  to  the  river, 
so  we  now  heard  her  say  caressingly: 

"  Come,  John,  my  boy,  take  the  first 
step  upward,  for  your  mother's  sake,  that 
in  time  I  may  have  the  joy  of  seeing 
you  in  our  own  home.  Come,  John,  with 
mother." 


She  gently  drew  him,  and  to  our  great 
joy  we  saw  him  rise  and  go  with  her,  and 
their  steps  led  them  to  the  river.  They 
walked  hand  in  hand,  and  as  far  as  \ve 
could  see  them  she  seemed  to  be  soothing 
and  comforting  him. 

"Thank  God!"  said  my  father  fer 
vently.  "  There  will  be  no  further  trouble 
now.  When  they  return  he  will  see  with 
clearer  vision."  And  so  it  proved. 

After  this,  by  divine  permission,  I  be 
came  much  of  the  time  a  co-laborer  with 
my  father,  and  thus  enjoyed  his  society 
and  his  instructions  much  oftener  than 
otherwise  I  could  have  done. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

"  Some  day,"  we  say,  and  turn  our  eyes 
Toward  the  fair  hills  of  Paradise; 
Some  day,  some  time,  a  sweet  new  rest 
Shall  blossom,  flower-like,  in  each  breast. 
Some  day,  some  time,  our  eyes  shall  see 
The  faces  kept  in  memory; 
Some  day  their  hand  shall  clasp  our  hand, 
Just  over  in  the  Morning-land — 
O  Morning-land!    O  Morning-land! 

—  [Edward  H.  Thelps. 

|XE  evening,  some 
three  years— 
counted  by  the  cal 
endar  of  earth  — 
after  I  had  entered 
upon  the  joys  and 
duties  of  the  heavenly  life,  I  sat  resting 
upon  the  upper  veranda  of  our  home,  after 
a  somewhat  arduous  journey  to  a  distant 
city  of  the  heavenly  realm.  From  this 


INTEA   MUItOS. 


69 


part  of  the  veranda  we  caught  rare 
glimpses  of  the  river  through  the  over 
hanging  branches  of  the  trees;  and  just 
below  us,  at  a  little  distance,  we  could  see 
the  happy  children  at  their  play  upon  the 
lawn.  Here  my  brother  sought  me  out, 
and  throwing  himself  upon  a  soft  veranda 
lounge  near,  lay  for  a  time  motionless  and 
silent.  He  looked  as  wearied 
as  one  can  ever  look  in  that 
life,  but  I  felt  no  anxiety 
about  him,  for  I  knew  the 
rest  was  sure.  He  had  been 
absent  on  some  earth-mis 
sion  much  of  the  time  for 
many  days,  and  I  knew  from 
experience  that  some  of  the 
fatigue  and  care  of  earth 
will  cling  to  us  on  such 
occasions,  till  we  are  restored 
by  heaven's  balmy  air  and 
life-giving  waters.  He  had 
not  told  me,  as  he  sometimes 
did,  where  his  mission  had  led  him,  and  I 
had  not  asked  him,  feeling  sure  that  all  it 
was  best  I  should  know  would  be  im 
parted.  My  own  duties  had  of  late  been 
unusually  responsible,  leading  me  daily  to 
a  distant  part  of  the  heavenly  kingdom, 
hence  I  myself  had  not  visited  the  be 
loved  of  earth  for  a  much  longer  period 
than  usually  elapsed  between  my  visits. 
When  last  seen,  all  of  the  dear  ones  had 
seemed  in  such  vigorous  health  and  were 
so  surrounded  by  earthly  blessings  that  I 
had  ceased  to  feel  they  needed  my  minis 


trations  as  in  the  early  days  of  their  sor 
row,  hence  I  had  thrown  all  of  my  ener 
gies  into  the  work  assigned  me  by  the 
Master. 

At  length,  aftei  r  tiw  nf  rest,  my 
brother  arose  to  a  sitting  posture,  and  re 
garding  me  for  a  moment  in  silence,  said 
gently:  "  I  have  news  for  you,  little 
sister." 

A  thrill  like  an  electric 
shock  passed  through  me, 
and  in  an  instant  I  cried  out 
joyously:  "  He  is  coming!" 
He  nodded  his  head,  with 
a  sympathetic  smile,  but 
did  not  at  once  reply. 

"When  will  it  be?  Ami 
to  go  to  him?"  I  asked. 

He  hesitated  an  instant 
before  saying:  "  Of  course 
you  are  permitted  to  go,  if 
your  heart  will  not  be 
denied." 

"  Oh,  I  must  go  to  him!  I  must  be  the 
first  to  greet  him!  Perhaps  it  may  be 
granted  him  to  see  me  even  while  he  is 
yet  in  the  flesh." 

He  shook  his  head  sadly  at  this,  and 
said,  "  N"o,  dear;  he  will  not  know  you." 

"  Why?  Frank,  tell  me  all  —  and  why 
you  think,  as  I  plainly  see  you  do,  that  it 
is  not  best  I  should  go." 

"  He  was  stricken  suddenly  in  the 
midst  of  his  work,  while  apparently  in 
perfect  health,  and  has  not  regained  con 
sciousness  since;  nor  will  he  ever  on  earth. 


70 


INTItA   MUKOS. 


Hence  your  presence  could  be  no  solace 
to  him." 

"  When  was  this?" 

"  Three  days  ago;  I  have  been  with  him 
almost  constantly  by  day  and  night  ever 
since." 

"  Oh,  why  did  you  not  sooner  tell  me?" 

"  It  was  thought  wise  to  spare  you  the 
unnecessary  pain  of  seeing  him  suffer 
when  you  could  not  minister  to  him,  and 
I  have  come  to  tell  you  now  that  you  may 
go  if  you  still  so  desire." 

"  He  will  know  me  as  soon  as  the 
struggle  is  past?" 

"  Yes,  but  he  will  be  bewildered  and 
weak;  he  will  need  stronger  help  and 
guidance  than  you  alone  can  give,  and 
you  will  miss  the  rapture  of  the  meeting 
as  it  would  be  a  little  later  on." 

"What  would  you  have  me  do?  You 
know  I  will  yield  to  your  wiser  judgment 
even  against  the  pleadings  of  my  heart. 
But  can  I  wait!" 

"  I  will  not  say,  '  do  not  go/  You 
shall  accompany  me  if  you  wish.  I  only 
think  that  after  the  first  bewilderment  of 
the  change  has  passed,  after  he  has 
bathed  in  the  waters  of  the  Eiver  of  Life, 
he  will  be  better  prepared  for  the  delight 
ful  reunion  which  awaits  him.  You  re 
member  what  the  waters  did  for  you,  and 
how  bewildered  and  oppressed  in  spirit 
you  were  till  you  went  with  me  that 
morning,  into  the  river.  It  is  the  same 
with  all  of  us,  only  where  there  has  been 
serious  trouble  with  the  brain  at  last,  it  is 


even  more  needed  than  on  ordinary  occa 
sions.  And  that  is  the  case  with  my 
brother;  he  will  not  be  fully  himself  until 
the  magical  waters  have  swept  the  clouds 
from  his  brain." 

"  You  are  always  right,  my  brother, 
and  I  will  yield  to  your  wise  advice,  al 
though  my  heart  cries  out  to  hasten  at 
once  to  his  side.  When  will  you  return 
to  him?" 

"  Immediately.  There  will  be  little 
time  to  wait.  With  the  quickening  of 
the  morning  light  we  will  be  here.  My 
brave-hearted,  wise  little  sister,  the  delay 
will  be  to  you  neither  sorrowful  nor 
long." 

He  arose,  and,  bending  over  me, 
dropped  a  kiss  lightly  on  my  brow,  and 
in  a  moment  he  had  passed  from  my 
sight. 

"  How  strange,"  I  thought,  "  that  even 
in  this  matter,  so  near  to  my  heart,  I  am 
able  to  yield  unmurmuringly!  Father, 
I  thank  Thee!  I  thank  Thee  for  the  glad 
reunion  so  near  at  hand;  but,  even  more 
than  that,  for  the  sweet  submission  in  all 
things  that  has  grown  into  my  life;  that 
I  can  yield  to  Thy  will  even  when  Thou 
wouldst  permit  it  to  be  otherwise." 

I  bowed  my  head  upon  my  hand  and 
gave  myself  up  to  mingled  sad  and  happy 
thoughts.  AVas  he,  this  dearly  loved  one, 
indeed  insensible  to  his  suffering?  Would 
the  Father  mercifully  spare  him  even  the 
pang  of  the  parting?  Oh,  that  the  morn 
ing  were  here!  Ho\v  could  I  wait  even 


IN  TEA 

that  brief  while  for  the  sight  of  the  be 
loved  face! 

Suddenly  a  soft  touch  rested  upon  my 
bowed  head,  and  a  Voice  I  had  learned  to 
recognize  and  love  beyond  all  things  in 
earth  or  heaven  said:  "Have  I  not  said 
truly,  '  Though  he  were  dead,  yet  shall  he 
live  again'?  What  are  now  the 
years  of  separation,  since  the  meet 
ing  again  is  at  hand?  Come,  and 
let  us  reason  a  little 
together,"  the  Master 
said,  smiling  down  into 
my  uplifted  face.  He  took 
my  extended  hand  into  his 
own,  and  sitting  down  beside 
me,  continued: 

"Let     us     consider 
what   these   years   have 
done  for  you.     Do  you 
not    feel   that    you   are 
infinitely     better     pre 
pared  to  confer  happiness  than 
when  you  parted  from  him  you 
love?" 

I  nodded  in  glad  affirmation. 

"  Do  you  not  realize  that  you  stand 
upon  a  higher  plane,  with  more  exalted 
ideas  of  life  and  its  duties;  and  that,  in 
the  strength  of  the  Father,  you  two  hence 
forward  will  walk  upward  together?" 

Again  I  gladly  acquiesced. 

"  Is  the  home-life  here  less  attractive 
than  it  was  in  the  earth-life?" 

"  Xo,  no!  A  thousand  times  no!"  I 
cried. 


MUROS. 


71 


"  Then  there  is  nothing  but  joy  in  the 
reunion  at  hand?" 

"  Nothing  but  joy,"  I  echoed. 
Then  the  Savior  led  me  on  to  talk  of 
the  one  so  soon  to  come,  and  I  opened  my 
glad  heart  to  him  and  told  him  of  the 
noble  life,  the  unselfish  toil,  the  high  as 
pirations,  the  unfaltering  trust  of  him  I 
loved.     I  spoke  of  his  fortitude  in 
misfortune,  his  courage  in  the  face  of 
sore    trial    and    disap 
pointment,  his  forgive 
ness  of  even  malicious 
injury;    and    concluded 
by   saying,    "  He   lived 
the    Christianity    many 
others    professed.       He 
always  distanced  me  in 
that." 

The  face  of  the  Mas 
ter  glowed  in  sympathy 
as  I  talked,  and  when  I 
ceased  he  said:  "  I  perceive 
that  you  have  discovered  the 
secret  which  makes  marriage 
eternal  as  the  years  of  heaven." 
"  Oh,"  I  said,  "  to  me  marriage  must  be 
eternal!  How  could  it  be  otherwise 
when  two  grow  together  and  become  as 
one?  Death  cannot  separate  them  with 
out  destroying;  they  are  no  longer  two 
perfect  beings,  but  one  in  soul  and  spirit 
forever." 

"Aye,"  he  answered;  "but  having  the 
marriage  rite  pronounced  does  not  pro 
duce  this  change.  It  is  the  divinity  of 


72 


INTEA    MUEOS. 


soul  wedded  to  soul  alone  that  can  do 
it." 

So  he  led  me  on  until  my  soul  flew  up 
ward  as  a  lark  in  the  early  morning.  He 
unfolded  to  me  mysteries  of  the  soul-life 
that  filled  my  heart  with  rapture,  but 
which  I  may  not  here  reveal.  At  length, 
to  my  infinite  surprise,  I  saw  the  rosy 
glow  deepening  across  the  sky,  and  knew 
that  morning  —  love's  morning  —  had 
da\vned  for  me  in  heaven.  The  Master 
arose,  and  pointing  to  the  radiance,  said: 
"  By  the  time  thou  art  ready  to  receive 
them  they  will  be  here;"  and  with  a 
smile,  and  a  touch  that  made  a  benedic 
tion,  he  departed. 

As  I  arose  and  stood  with  face  uplifted 
to  the  coming  day,  I  caught  in  the  near 
distance  the  triumphant  notes  of  the 
angels'  choral  song;  and  this  morning,  as 
though  in  sympathy  with  my  thought, 
they  sang: 

"  lie  is  risen !  Hear  it,  ye  heavens,  and  ye 
sons  of  earth!  He  is  risen,  and  has  become 
the  firstfruits  of  them  that  slept!" 

I  lifted  up  my  voice  with  joy,  and 
joined  their  thrilling  song;  and  as  they 
swept  onward  and  the  cadence  died  away, 
I  slowly  descended  the  stairway,  crossed 
the  lawn  whose  flowers  never  crushed  or 
withered  beneath  our  feet,  and  sank  for  a 
moment  beneath  the  pure  waters  of  the 
river.  I  felt  no  haste,  no  unwonted  ex 
citement  or  unrest,  though  I  knew  that  he 
was  coming  for  whom  my  soul  had  waited 
all  these  years.  The  Master's  presence 


had  filled  me  with  calm  and  peace  that 
nothing  had  power  to  disturb;  had  pre 
pared  and  fitted  me  for  the  great  happi 
ness  lying  just  before  me. 

Uplifted  with  a  new,  strange  delight,  I 
recrossed  the  lawn,  stopping  upon  the 
veranda  before  entering  the  house,  to 
gather  a  knot  of  cream-white  roses  and 
fasten  them  upon  my  breast.  Then  go 
ing  to  the  library,  I  refilled  the  golden 
bowl  with  the  spicy-breathed  scarlet  car 
nations,  laying  one  aside  to  fasten  upon 
my  husband's  shoulder.  I  wanted  to  my 
self  gather  the  flowers  that  would  greet 
him  on  his  coming.  I  twisted  up  my  hair 
in  the  manner  that  he  had  most  admired, 
and  fastened  a  creamy  bud  within  the 
folds,  that  I  might  seem  to  him  as  I  had 
of  old. 

Soon  thereafter  I  heard  voices  and 
steps.  Listen!  Yes,  it  is  the  same  dear 
step  for  which  I  had  so  often  listened  in 
the  old  home-life,  the  step  that  had  al 
ways  brought  gladness  to  my  heart,  and 
sunshine  in  our  home!  His  step  in 
heaven!  I  flew  to  the  open  door- way, 
and  in  an  instant  was  held  close  in  the 
strong  arms  and  to  the  loving,  throbbing 
heart  of  my  dear  husband.  Was  there 
anything  more  for  me  that  heaven  could 
give! 

My  brother,  with  thoughtful  care, 
passed  onward  to  the  upper  rooms  of  the 
house,  and  for  awhile  we  were  alone  to 
gether,  we  whose  lives  had  run,  so  hap 
pily  mingled,  through  the  long  years  of 


INTEA 

our  mortal  life.  I  drew  him  within  the 
house,  and  in  the  vestibule  again  he  took 
me  in  his  arms  and  drew  me  to  his 
heart. 

"  This  is  heaven  indeed!"  he  said. 

We  passed  into  the  "  flower-room,"  and 
on  its  threshold  he  stood  a  moment,  en 
tranced  with  its  beauty;  but  when  I  would 
have  related  to  him  its  history,  as  my 
brother  had  given  it  to  me, 
he  said:  "  Not  to-day,  my 
dear;  I  have 
only  eyes  and 


MUEOS. 


73 


eyes  of  my  dear  husband  were  tear-filled, 
and  he  pressed  my  hand,  which  he  still 
kept  in  his,  in  tender  sympathy. 

"  Oh,  darling,  it  is  a  blessed,  blessed 
life!"  I  said. 

"  I  already  realize  the  blessedness,"  he 
replied,  "  for  has  it  not  given  me  back  my 
brother  and  my  wife — my  precious  wife!" 
Early  the  following  morning  I  said  to 
my     husband     and     our 
brother:     "  We   must  go 
to     father    and     mother 
Sprague's    to  -  day. 


ears  for  you  to-day;  all  else  in 

heaven  must  wait." 
So  we  sat  and  talked  together  as  in  the 
olden  days,  and  the  happy  hours  came  and 
went,  and  the  day  melted  into  the  twi 
light  glow,  before  we  realized  it  was  half 
spent.  Our  brother  Frank  had  come  to 
us  about  the  noontide,  and  together  we 
had  gone  over  the  lovely  house,  had  stood 
upon  the  broad  verandas  and  eaten  of  the 
heavenly  fruit.  Then  we  all  sat  together 
where  I  had  spent  the  hours  waiting  in 
the  presence  of  the  blessed  Master.  I 
told  them  much  that  he  then  had  said  to 
me,  and  how  he  turned  into  triumphant 
rejoicing  the  hours  which  I  had  antici 
pated  would  pass  in  lonely  waiting.  The 


They    have    the    first    claim, 

after  ours,  Frank."  f* 

"  Yes,  we  will  go  at  once,"  they  both 
replied. 

So  together  we  all  started.  In  the 
earliest  days  of  my  heavenly  life  I  had 
sought  out  with  much  joy  the  home  of  my 
husband's  parents,  and  was  by  them  ac 
corded,  as  in  the  earth-life,  a  warm  place 
in  their  hearts,  and  many  happy  hours 
had  we  spent  together  since.  Now  we 
were  taking  to  them  a  favorite  son,  and  I 
realized  how  his  coming  would  bring 
gladness  to  their  hearts  and  home.  It 
was  a  joyful  meeting,  especially  to  our 
mother,  and  the  day  was  far  spent  before 
we  arose  to  return. 


74 


INTEA   MUROS. 


"William,"  said  our  mother,  fondly 
laying  her  hand  upon  his  arm,  "  yours 
was  a  happy  home  on  earth  —  I  used  to 
think  a  perfect  home;  it  will  be  far  hap 
pier  here,"  with  a  loving  glance  at  me. 

"  I  am  sure  of  that,  mother.  I  have  my 
dear  wife  and  Frank  constantly  with  me; 
and  you  and  my  father  and  Josephine  " — 
a  favorite  niece  —  "  to  come  to  here;  and 
after  awhile,"  with  a  little  hesitation, 
"  the  holier  joys  and  privileges  of 
heaven." 

We  turned  to  go,  and  upon  the  thresh 
old  met  an  aunt  who  in  the  earth-life  — 
blind  and  helpless  —  had  been  a  favorite 
with  us  all. 

"  My  dear  children,"  she  exclaimed, 
"  how  good  it  seems  to  see  you  all  again!" 

"Aunt  Cynthia!"  my  husband  said 
fondly. 

"  Yes,  Aunt  Cynthia,  but  no  longer 
groping  helpless  in  the  darkness.  '  Where 
as  I  once  was  blind,  now  I  see,' "  she 
quoted,  smiling  happily. 

And  so  it  was  —  the  Master's  touch  had 
rested  on  the  sightless  eyes,  and,  closing 
to  the  darkness  of  earth,  they  had  opened 
upon  the  glories  of  heaven.  Marvelous 
transition!  No  wonder  we  left  her  sing 
ing: 

Glory  to  Him  who  this  marvel  hath  wrought, 
Filling  my  spirit  with  joy  and  delight! 

Lo,  in  my  blindness  I  safely  have  walked 
Out  of  the  darkness  into  the  light! 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 


Down  by  the  sea,  the  crystal  sea, 
Where  all  of  the  redeemed  shall  be, 
Where  you  and  I,  beloved,  shall  go. 
Our  crimson  robes  washed  white  as  snow 
In  Christ's  d«ir  blood — what  hymns  of  praise 
Thro'  countless  ages  we  shall  raise! 
There  all  our  loved  ones  we  shall  see — 
Think  what  a  meeting  that  will  be 
Down  by  the  sea! 

— [From  "  Songs  by  the  Sea." 

AYS  lengthened  into 
weeks,  and  weeks 
into  months,  and 
these  in  turn  crept 
onward  into  years, 
and  the  duties  and 
joys  of  heaven  grew 
clearer  and  dearer  with,  each  passing 
hour.  Our  home-life  was  perfect,  though 
we  looked  forward  with  joy  to  the  future 
coming  of  our  son  and  daughter  to  make 
its  ties  complete.  We  had  often  spoken 
of  going  together  to  the  great  celestial 
sea,  but  the  time  had  never  seemed  quite 
ripe  for  so  doing.  We  realized  it  was  one 
of  the  great  mysteries  of  heaven,  although 
we  knew  not  just  what  to  expect,  since 
there  no  one  ever  seeks  to  forestall  sight 
by  description.  One  evening  I  said  to  my 
brother: 

"  I  have  a  strange  desire  to  go  to  the 
sea,  if  you  think  it  wise  that  we  should  do 
so." 

"  I  am  glad  that  it  is  your  desire  to  go, 
as  it  is  mine  to  have  you.  I  was  about  to 
propose  that  you  and  my  brother  should 
take  together  this  blessed  journey." 


INTEA   MUROS. 


75 


"  Will  you  not  accompany  us?" 

"  Xot  at  this  time.  We  will  all  take  it 
again  together,  but  it  is  best  that  now  you 
two  should  go  alone.  You  know  the  way. 
Through  the  forest  that  leads  to  the  Tem 
ple,  till  almost  there;  then  bear  to  the 
right  and  follow  the  golden  path  that 
takes  you  direct  to  the  shore." 

So,  in  the  quivering  light  of  the  glori 
ous  morning  we  started,  full  of  a  holy  joy 
that  together  we  might  take  this  special 
journey.     We  entered  and  traversed  the 
great  forest,  where  the  golden  light  fell 
through  the  quivering  branches  over 
head,  and  birds  of  gorgeous  plumage 
and    thrilling    song    were    darting 
everywhere.     We   heard,   nearer 
and  ever  nearer,  the  regular 
dashing  of  the  waves  against 
the  shore;  and  now  there 
came  to  us  bursts  of  tri 
umphant  song  and  the 
harmony    of    many    in 
struments  of  music.     At 
length    we    emerged    from 
the    forest,    and    stood    mute 
and  motionless  before  the  over 
whelming  glory  of  the  scene  be 
fore  us. 

Can   I   describe  it  as   it  ap 
peared     to     me     that     day? 
Xever,    until    my    lips    can 
speak,  and  your  heart  un 
derstand,  the  language  of 
the    royal    courts    above. 
From     our     very     feet 


sloped  downward  toward  the  shore  a 
golden  strand  many  hundred  feet  wide, 
and  extending  on  either  hand  far  beyond 


the    limits    of    our 
vision.    This  strand 
caught     and     radi 
ate  d     the 
morning 
^  light      until 
wherever    it 
was      visible 

it   glittered   and  glimmered   like 
the   dust   of  diamonds   and   other 
precious  stones,  and  the  waves,  as 
they    came    and    went    in    ceaseless 
motion,   caught   up   this   sparkling   sand 
and  carried  it  on  their  crests,  like  the 
phosphorescence  we  sometimes  see  in  the 
wake  of  a  vessel  in  mid-ocean.     And  the 


76 


INTRA   MUROS. 


sea!  It  spread  out  before  us  in  a  radi 
ance  that  passes  description  in  any  lan 
guage  I  have  ever  known.  It  was  like  the 
white  glory  that  shone  through  the  win 
dows  of  the  Temple,  and  beneath  this 
shining  glory  we  caught  in  the  roll  of  the 
waves  the  blue  tint  of  the  waters  of  that 
sea  which  has  no  limit  to  its  depths  or 
bounds.  Upon  its  shining  bosom  we  saw 
in  every  direction  boats,  representing  all 
nations,  but  in  beauty  of  construction  far 
surpassing  anything  earth  has  ever 
known.  They  were  like  great  open  pleas 
ure-barges,  and  were  filled  with  people 
looking  with  eager  faces  toward  the  shore, 
many  in  their  eagerness  standing  erect 
and  gazing  with  wistful,  expectant  eyes 
into  the  faces  of  those  upon  the  shore. 

Ah,  the  people  upon  the  shore! 
"  Numberless  as  the  sands  of  the  sea," 
they  stood,  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  far 
as  stretched  the  shore  of  that  illimitable 
sea,  a  great  mass  of  beautiful  souls  clad  in 
the  spotless  garments  of  the  redeemed. 
Many  among  them  had  golden  harps  and 
various  instruments  of  music,  and  when 
ever  a  boat  touched  the  shore  and  its  in 
mates  were  welcomed  by  the  glad  voices 
and  tender  embraces  of  their  beloved  ones 
in  the  throng,  the  harps  would  be  held 
aloft,  all  of  the  golden  instruments  would 
sound,  and  the  vast  multitude  would 
break  forth  into  the  triumphant  song  of 
victory  over  death  and  the  grave. 

"  Do  these  people  stand  here  always,  I 
wonder?"  I  said  softly. 


"  Not  the  same  people,"  said  a  radiant 
being  near  us,  who  had  heard  my  ques 
tion.  "  But  there  is  always  a  throng  of 
people  here  —  those  who  are  expecting 
friends  from  the  other  life,  and  those  who 
assemble  to  share  their  joy.  Some  of  the 
heavenly  choristers  also  are  always  here, 
but  not  always  the  same  ones.  You  will 
notice  that  most  of  those  who  arrive  are 
led  quietly  away  by  their  friends,  and 
many  others  are  constantly  joining  the 
multitude." 

He  passed  onward  toward  the  shore, 
and  left  us  rapt  in  awe  and  wonder. 

We  soon  became  deeply  interested  in 
watching  the  reunions,  and  found  our 
selves  joining  with  rapture  in  the  glad 
songs  of  rejoicing.  Now  and  then  a  face 
we  remembered  to  have  seen  on  earth 
would  be  among  the  eager  faces  in  the 
boats,  but  none  that  had  been  especially 
dear  to  us;  still  it  made  us  notice  more 
closely  and  sympathize  more  heartily  with 
those  who  welcomed  beloved  friends.  Now 
we  would  see  a  wife  caught  in  the  close 
embrace  of  a  waiting  husband;  now  a  lit 
tle  child  with  a  glad  cry  would  spring  into 
the  outstretched  arms  of  the  happy 
mother;  friend  would  clasp  friend  in 
glad  reunion,  and  here  an  aged  mother 
would  be  folded  to  the  heart  of  a  beloved 
child. 

As  one  boat  of  more  than  usual 
strength  and  beauty  came  riding  grace 
fully  over  the  waves,  we  observed  the  tall 
figure  of  a  man  standing  near  her  prow 


IN  TEA   MUEOS. 


with  his  arms  about  a  graceful  woman 
who  stood  by  his  side.  Each  shaded  with 
uplifted  hand  from  their  dazzled  eyes 
the  unwonted  splendor,  and  scanned, 
wistfully  and  searchingly,  the  faces  of  the 
crowd  as  the  boat  neared  the  shore.  Sud 
denly  with  a  great  thrill  of  joy  surging 
through  my  being,  I  cried  out: 

"  It  is  our  precious  son,  and  his  dear 
wife!  And  they  have  come  together!" 

In  an  instant  we  were  swiftly  moving 
through  the  throng  that  parted  in  ready 
sympathy  to  let  us  pass.  And,  as  the  boat 
touched  the  shore,  with  a  swift  movement 
they  were  both  beside  us  —  the  dear 
daughter  already  close  clasped  to  the 
hearts  of  her  own  happy  parents  who  were 
waiting  near  the  water's  edge,  while  at 
the  same  instant  we  felt  the  arms  of  our 
beloved  son  enfolding  us;  and  soon  there 
after  we  were  all  in  each  other's  embrace. 
Oh,  what  a  rapturous  moment  was  that! 
Our  home  life  in  heaven  complete,  no 
partings  again  forever!  As  we  stood  with 
encircling  arms,  scarcely  realizing  the  un 
expected  bliss,  the  heavenly  choir  broke 
into  song;  and  with  uplifted  faces  radiant 


with  joy,  eyes  filled  with  happy  tears  and 
voices  trembling  with  emotion,  we  all 
joined  in  the  glad  anthem: 

Glory  be  unto  the  Father,  and  unto  the  Son! 
Glory  be  unto  the  ever-blessed  Three  in  One! 
No  more  sorrow,  no  more  parting,  no  more 

grief  or  pain; 
Christ  has   broken   death's  strong   fetters,   we 

are  free  again! 

Heart  to  heart  and  hand  to  hand, 
Meet  we  on  the  golden  strand. 
Glory,  glory  to  the  Father!    Glory  to  the  Son! 
Glory  be  unto  the  ever-blessed  Three  in  One! 
Alleluia!    Amen! 

The  song  rose  and  swelled  triumphantly 
as  the  vast  multitude  caught  it  up,  and 
the  surge  of  the  waves  made  a  deep  un 
dertone  to  the  melody  that  increased  its 
solemnity,  as  with  bowed  heads  and  full 
hearts  we  passed  onward  hand  in  hand; 
and  the  light  that  fell  about  us  was 
purer,  holier,  more  divine,  than  it  had 
ever  been  before. 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

Can  such  things  be, 

And  overcome  us  like  a  summer's  cloud, 

Without  our  special  wonder? 

—[Shakespeare. 


78  INT  II A 

TIME  came  when  one 
day  as  I  stood  in 
my  lovely  room 
that  h  a  d  really 
become  to  me  a 
shrine,  and  looked 
up  into  the  pic 
tured  face  of  the 
Christ  above  me,  I  fancied  that  the  ten 
der  eyes  looking  down  into  mine  no 
longer  told  of  a  deathless  love  alone,  but 
carried  in  their  depths  a  pity,  a  loving 
compassion  which  I  had  never  noticed 
there  before.  Then  as  I  turned  toward 
my  couch  I  even  fancied  that  his  hands 
reached  out  from  the  canvas  and  rested 
in  benediction  on  my  head.  I  stood 
a  moment  in  blessed  peace  before  him, 
then  as  the  hands  seemed  to  be  with 
drawn,  I  turned  and  lay  down  for  an 
instant's  rest.  But  strange  thoughts  and 
fancies  crept  into  my  brain,  such  as  I  had 


MUROS. 

not  known  in  years.  I  felt  confused  and 
bewildered,  and  started  up  restlessly  from 
my  pillow,  only  to  fall  back  again  in 
doubt,  and  something  akin  to  dread. 
What  could  it  mean?  Could  the  old  un 
rest  of  earth  find  place  in  this  divine  re 
treat?  Then  I  heard  unfamiliar  voices. 
Someone  said: 

"  Her  color  is  better  than  it  has  been 
for  several  days,  I  think." 

"  Yes,  there  is  no  doubt  but  she  is  bet 
ter  to-day.  There  is  really  hope  for  lu-r 
now,  I  am  sure.  But  she  came  very  near 
passing  through  the  CJates." 

"Very  near  passing  through  the  Gates"! 
As  though  I  had  not  passed  through,  and 
in  returning  left  them  so  ajar  that  gleams 
of  the  heavenly  radiance  from  beyond 
them  will  fall  about  my  life  forever! 

I  have  been  in  my  Father's  house. 
""We  shall  know  each  other  there!" 


SUPPLEMENTAL  CHAPTER. 


THE  many  letters  re 
ceived  since  the  publi- 
cation  of  "  Intra 
Muros,"  repeated  in 
quiries  have  been 
made  of  me  on  differ 
ent  points  contained 
in  the  book,  requiring  much  correspond 
ence,  and  it  has  been  suggested  that  pos 
sibly  the  addition  of  a  few  pages,  as  a 
supplement  to  the  book,  might  explain 
some  matters,  or,  pos 
sibly,  make  more  clear 
some  points  that  have 
not  been  fully  compre 
hended  by  the  reader. 

Let  me  in  the  begin 
ning  reassert  what  I 
have  heretofore  stated: 
that  I  have  never 
claimed  that  this 
strange  experience  is 
either  a  revelation  or  an 
inspiration.  It  came  to 
me  during  a  period  of 
great  physical  suffering  and  prostration, 
and  I  have  always  considered  it  as  sent 
in  compensation  for  that  suffering.  Be 
this  as  it  may,  it  has  been  a  great  comfort 
and  help  to  me,  and,  through  the  letters 
received  from  others,  I  am  led  to  believe 
it  has  been  the  same  to  many  who  have 


read  it,  for  which  cause  I  am  extremely 
gratified.  I  wish  that  I  might  give  the 
entire  experience  just  as  it  came  to  me, 
but  I  find  that  earth-language  is  wholly 
inadequate  for  me  to  do  so.  There  were 
so  many  mysteries,  so  many  teachings  far 
beyond  anything  that  in  this  life  we  have 
known,  that  I  find  myself  bewildered  and 
lost  when  I  attempt  to  convey  to  others 
the  marvelous  things  that  at  that  time 
seemed  indeed  to  me  to  be  a  moct  won 
derful  revelation. 

The  question  has  re 
peatedly  been  asked  me, 
"  Was  this  a  real  ex 
perience,  or  merely  a 
fanciful  sketch?"  What 
I  have  written  above 
will  as  nearly  answer 
that  question  as  it  is 
possible  for  me  to  do. 
The  preface  and  early 
pages  as  given  in  the 
little  volume  are  as 
nearly  accurate  as  I  can 
make  them;  and  anything  that  I  might 
add  on  that  point  would  simply  be 
superfluous.  To  me,  at  the  time,  it  was 
as  real  as  any  experience  in  this  life 
could  possibly  be. 

Questions  have  been  asked  respecting 
the  comparative  distances  in  heaven  and 


80 


2XTRA    MUROS. 


our  powers  of  passing  from  one  point  to 
another;  and  the  question  has  even  been 
asked  if  in  the  other  life  we  developed 
wings  that  aided  us  in  passage,  as  the 
wings  of  a  bird.  These  matter-of-faet 
questions  are  sometimes  quite  difficult  to 
answer,  for  my  belief  is,  that  if  I  were 
really  in  the  other  life,  as  during  this  ex 
perience  I  seemed  to  be,  my  thoughts 
would  be  so  far  above,  so  lifted  beyond 
such  temporal  matters,  that  I  would  be 
unable  to  answer  such  inquiries  satisfac 
torily  on  my  return  to  this  life.  Look 
ing  back  upon  it  now,  and  trying  to 
gather  facts  from  the  impressions  that  I 
then  received,  I  should  say  that  none  who 
have  ever  passed  through  mortal  life 
would  in  any  way  be  changed  from  their 
present  personal  appearance,  except  to  be 
etherealized  and  glorified.  When  I 
seemed  to  stand  in  that  wonderful  Tem 
ple  filled  with  the  Glory  of  God  the 
Father,  four  angels  with  uplifted  trum 
pets  stood  beside  the  golden  altar  on  the 
great  platform  of  pearl,  and  from  their 
shoulders  shadowy  pinions  enfolded  them 
and  touched  the  floor  upon  which  they 
stood.  And  when,  in  a  moment  of  be 
wildering  emotion,  I  lifted  my  eyes  to  the 
erstwhile  cloud-filled  dome,  I  saw  about 
the  hitherto  invisible  choir,  the  shadowy 
pinions  of  which  we  so  often  read,  half 
concealing  the  harps  and  instruments  of 
gold.  Also,  when  at  the  close  of  that 
wonderful  day  when  I  had  first  met  the 
Savior,  we  heard  the  angel  voices  as  we 


stood  together  in  the  great  flower-room, 
and,  looking  upward,  saw  the  child  faces 
in  the  golden  twilight  above  us,  they  too 
had  delicate  shadowy  wings,  half  conceal 
ing  the  babyt  forms.  Except  for  this,  I 
have  no  recollection  of  having  seen  any 
of  those  glorious  wings  of  which  we  so 
often  read. 

To  me  it  seems  that  to  the  angels  of 
God  who  have  always  lived  in  heaven, 
these  are  given;  but  to  those  who  have 
suffered  and  toiled  and  borne  the  cross 
below,  is  given  only  the  glorified  form, 
such  as  our  Savior  himself  bore.  We 
appear  to  our  friends  when  we  meet  them 
over  there  just  as  they  saw  us  here,  only 
purified  and  perfect.  Still,  we  had 
powers  of  locomotion  given  us  that  car 
ried  us  from  point  to  point  swiftly  and 
securely,  as  though  borne  by  a  boat  upon 
the  waters. 

I  do  not  know  how  I  can  better  illus 
trate  this  point  than  by  giving  a  little 
incident  not  mentioned  in  the  book.  I 
remember,  as  I  sat  one  morning  upon 
the  upper  terrace  in  the  house  of  my  sis 
ter  whom  I  had  welcomed  there  soon 
after  my  arrival,  and  who,  though  really 
then  a  denizen  of  earth,  has  since  passed 
over  and  taken  possession  of  that  beauti 
ful  home  prepared  for  her,  that  my  sister 
said  to  me: 

"  I  often  look  across  the  river  to  those 
lovely  hills  in  the  distance,  and  wonder 
is  it  is  all  as  beautiful  there  as  here.  I 
mean  some  day  to  go  and  see." 


1NTEA    MUBOS. 


81 


"  Why  not  go  to-day?"  was  my  an 
swer. 

"  Could  you  go  with  me  this  morn 
ing?"  was  her  inquiry,  as  she  turned  her 
radiant  face  again  toward  the  river  and 
the  lovely  fields  beyond. 

"  With  pleasure,"  I  replied.  "  I  have 
often  wished  to  go  myself.  There  is 
something  very  in 
viting  in  the  beau 
tiful  landscape  be 
yond  the  river. 
Where  is  my 
brother  Oliver?"  I 
asked;  "  will  he 
not  accompany 
us?" 

"No,"  she  said, 
looking  smilingly 
toward  me,  "he  has 
gone  upon  an  im 
portant  mission  for 
the  Master  to-day; 
but  you  and  I,  dear, 
can  go,  and  be  at  home  again  before  his 
return." 

"  Then  let  us  do  so,"  I  replied,  rising 
and  giving  her  my  hand. 

She  at  once  arose,  and,  instead  of  turn 
ing  toward  the  stairway  in  the  center  of 
the  building,  we  turned  and  walked  de 
liberately  to  the  low  coping  that  sur 
rounded  the  upper  veranda.  Without  a 
moment's  hesitation  we  stepped  over  this 
into  the  sweet  air  that  lay  about  us. 
There  was  no  more  fear  of  falling  than  if 


our  feet  had  been  upon  the  solid  earth. 
We  had  the  power  of  passing  through  the 
air  at  will,  and  through  the  water,  just 
as  we  had  the  power  of  walking  upon  the 
crystal  paths  and  greensward  about  us. 

We  ascended  slightly  until  we  were 
just  above  the  tree-tops,  and  then  — 
what  shall  I  say?  —  we  did  not  fly,  we 
made  no  effort 
either  w  i  t  h  our 
hands  or  our  feet; 
I  can  only  think  of 
the  word  "  drift 
ing"  that  will  at 
all  describe  this 
wonderful  experi 
ence.  We  went  as 
a  leaf  or  a  feather 
floats  through  the 
air  on  a  balmy  day, 
and  the  sensation 
was  most  delight 
ful.  We  saw  be 
neath  us  through 
the  green  branches  of  the  trees  the  little 
children  playing,  and  the  people  walking 
—  some  for  pleasure,  some  for  duty.  As 
we  neared  the  river  we  looked  down  on 
the  pleasure-boats  upon  the  water  and 
upon  the  people  sitting  or  lying  or  walk 
ing  on  the  pebbly  bottom;  and  we  saw 
them  with  the  same  distinctness  as 
though  we  were  looking  at  them  simply 
through  the  atmosphere. 

Conversing  as  we  drifted  onward,  we 
soon  were  over  the  tops  of  the  hills  to 


82 


IN  TEA    MUEOS. 


which  we  had  looked  so  longingly  from 
the  veranda  of  my  sister's  house,  and,  for 
some  time,  we  had  no  words  to  exchange; 
our  hearts  were  filled  with  sensations 
such  as  only  the  scenes  of  heaven  can 
give.  Then  my  sister  said  very  softly, 
quoting  from  one  of  the  old  earth- 
hymns: 

"  Sweet  fields  beyond  the  swelling  flood, 
Stand  dressed  in  living  green." 

And,  in  the  same  spirit,  I  answered, 
"  It  is  indeed  a  rapturous  scene  — 

"  '  That  rises  to  our  sight, 

Sweet  fields  arrayed  in  living  green,  and  rivers 
of  delight.'  " 

As  we  passed  onward,  in  looking  down 
we  began  to  see  many  suburban  villages, 
similar  to  that  in  which  our  own  happy 
homes  were  situated.  Among  many  of 
them  there  was  an  unfamiliar  air,  and 
the  architecture  of  the  buildings  in  many 
respects  seemed  quite  different  from  our 
own.  I  suggested  to  my  sister  that  we 
drop  downward  a  little.  On  doing  so, 
we  soon  realized  what  caused  this  appar 
ent  difference  in  the  architecture  and 
surroundings.  Where  our  homes  were 
situated  we  were  surrounded  by  people 
we  had  known  and  loved  on  earth,  and  of 
our  own  nationality.  Many  of  these  vil 
lages  over  which  we  were  now  passing 
we  found  were  formed  from  what,  to  us, 
would  be  termed  of  foreign  nations,  and 
each  village  retained  some  of  the  peculiar 
ities  of  its  earth-life,  and  these,  to  us, 
were  naturally  unfamiliar.  We  recog 


nized  again  the  wisdom  and  goodness  of 
the  Father  in  thus  allowing  friends  of 
the  same  nationality  to  be  located  near 
each  other  in  heaven,  as  on  earth. 

As  we  still  drifted  onward,  in  passing 
over  an  exquisitely  beautiful  valley,  be 
tween  low  hills  of  the  most  enchanting 
verdure,  we  saw  a  group  of  people  seated 
upon  the  ground  in  a  semicircle.  They 
seemed  to  be  hundreds  in  number,  and  in 
their  midst  a  man  was  standing  who,  ap 
parently,  was  talking  to  them.  Something 
familiar,  and  yet  unfamiliar,  in  the  scene 
attracted  us,  and  I  said,  "  Let  us  go 
nearer,  and  hear,  if  possible,  what  he  is 
saying,  and  see  who  these  people  are." 

Upon  doing  this  we  found  the  people 
to  resemble  in  a  great  measure  our  own 
Indian  tribes;  their  dress,  in  a  manner, 
corresponding  to  that  worn  upon  earth, 
though  so  etherealized  as  to  be  surpass 
ingly  beautiful.  But  the  dusky  faces 
and  the  long  black  hair  still  remained. 
The  faces,  with  intense  interest  depicted 
on  each,  were  turned  toward  the  man 
who,  we  could  see,  was  talking  to  them, 
and,  looking  upon  him,  we  saw  at  once 
that  he  belonged  to  the  Anglo-Saxon 
race.  In  a  whisper  of  surprise  I  said  to 
my  sister: 

"Why,  he  is  a  missionary!" 

As  so  often  seemed  to  me  to  happen  in 
that  experience,  when  a  surprise  or  a 
difficulty  presented  itself,  there  was  al 
ways  some  one  near  to  answer  and  en 
lighten  us.  And  so  we  found  on  this  oc- 


1NTBA    MUEOS. 

casion  that  our  instructor  was  beside  us 
ready  to  answer  any  surprise  or  question 
that  might  be  asked.  He  said  at  once: 

"  Yes,  you  are  right.     This  is  a  mis 
sionary    who    gave    his    life   to   what   on 
earth  were  called  the  heathen.     He  spent 
many  years  in  working  for  them  and  en 
lightening   those 
who    sat    in    dark 
ness,   with   the   re 
sult,  as  you  see  he- 
fore  you,  of  bring 
ing   hundreds   into 
the  kingdom  of  the 
Master.       But,     as 
you   will   naturally 
suppose,  they  have 
much  to  learn,  and 
here    he    still 
gathers  them  about 
him,    and    day    by 

day  leads  them  higher  and  higher  into  the 
blessed  life." 

"  Are  there  many  such,"  I  asked,  "  do 
ing  this  work  in  this  beautiful  realm?" 

"  Many  hundreds,"  he  said.  "  To 
these  poor  minds,  unenlightened  as  they 
were  when  they  first  came,  heaven  is  as 
beautiful  and  happy  a  place  as  it  is  to 
any  who  have  ascended  higher,  simply  be 
cause  we  can  enjoy  only  in  the  capacity 
to  which  our  souls  can  reach.  There  are 
none  of  us  who  have  not  much  yet  to 
learn  of  this  wonderful  country." 

In  several  instances,  as  we  drifted 
across  above  the  villages,  we  heard  songs 


83 

of  praise  arising  from  the  temples,  and 
from  people  collected  in  different  ways. 
In    many    cases,    to    our    surprise,    the 
hymns   and   the   words   were   those   with 
which   we   had   been   familiar   on   earth, 
and,  although  sung  in  a  strange  tongue, 
we  understood  them  all.     That  was  an 
other  of  the   won 
derful  surprises  of 
heaven.    There  was 
no   language   there 
that  we  could  not 
understand. 

On,  and  on,  and 
on,  through  won 
derful  scenes  of 
beauty  we  passed, 
returning  finally  to 
our  own  homes  by 
a  different  way 
from  that  by  which 

we  had  gone  forth,  seeming  to  have  made 
almost  a  circle  in  our  pleasant  journey- 
ings.  When  I  left  my  sister  in  her  own 
home  she  whispered  to  me  as  she  bade  me 
good-by  for  the  present: 

"  It  has  been  a  day  of  such  wonderful 
rest  and  pleasure  that  we  must  soon  re 
peat  it  together."     And  I  answered: 
"  Yes,  dear,  we  will." 

In  several  instances  the  subject  of 
dual  marriages  has  been  introduced. 
More  than  once  it  has  been  suggested, 
"  If  a  man  marrying  in  early  life,  and, 
being  devotedly  attached  to  the  woman  he 


2NTEA    MUROS. 


has  married,  should  unfortunately  lose 
her,  and  after  many  years  of  solitary 
waiting  find  another  congenial  soul  to 
whom  his  whole  heart  goes  out  and  mar 
riage  is  the  result,  and  they  have  many 
years  of  wedded  happiness  together  be 
fore  she,  too,  is  called,  to  whom  will  he 
belong  in  the  other  life?" 

In  the  many  phases  of  the  divine  life 
that  seemed  to  come  to  me  in  my  vision, 
such  thoughts  as  the  above  were  never  by 
any  means  suggested.  Speaking  from 
my  own  natural  intuitions,  I  cannot  but 
think  that  as  soon  as  the  immortal  part 
of  us  leaves  the  earthly  tenement,  it  lays 
down  forever,  with  that  tenement,  all 
thoughts  that  embarrassed  or  grieved  or 
pained  the  spirit.  In  the  homes  of 
heaven  there  was  perpetual  love  and  joy 
and  peace  and  happiness  without  meas 
ure.  This  one  thing  I  know:  In  heaven 
are  no  conflicting  ties;  no  questions  that 
vex;  no  conditions  that  annoy;  the  whole 
heart  springs  up  to  do  the  will  of  the 
Father,  and  nothing  less  than  that  will 
suffice. 

In  answer  to  the  question  in  many  in 
stances  proposed  to  me,  as  to  whether  I 
consider  this  experience  as  a  revelation, 
I  can  only  say,  as  heretofore,  that  I  gave 
it  as  it  came  to  me,  and  every  one  must 
draw  his  own  inference  concerning  it. 
I  can  be  the  guide  for  no  one. 

There  are  some  seeming  inconsistencies 
in  the  book  of  which  I  myself  am  aware. 
Looking  back  upon  it  after  nearly  four 


years  have  passed,  it  seems  to  me  to  be 
more  a  series  of  instructions  such  as  we 
give  little  children  here  in  a  kindergar 
ten.  It  does  not  purport  to  be  a  revela 
tion  of  what  has  been  or  what  will  be,  in. 
the  strict  sense  of  the  word,  but,  as  I 
have  already  suggested,  more  as  we  would 
teach  children  in  a  kindergarten.  I  my 
self  noticed,  in  transcribing  this  strange 
experience,  the  fact  that  the  first  lesson 
to  be  taught  almost  invariably  came  as  an 
illustration;  and,  after  my  wonder  and 
pleasure  had  ta.ken  in  all  that  the  picture 
itself  would  teach,  then  followed  the  reve 
lation,  or  a  general  application  of  its 
meaning.  For  instance,  that  I  may  make 
my  meaning  more  clear:  When  I  myself 
first  entered  within  the  gates,  I  was 
shown  the  wonders  of  the  celestial  gar 
dens  and  the  magic  of  the  beautiful  river; 
then  the  meeting  with  the  dear  ones- 
from  whom  I  had  been  so  long  parted. 
And  so  I  came  to  know  the  rapture  of  the 
disembodied  spirit  on  its  first  entrance 
"Within  the  Walls."  Afterwards  fol 
lowed  the  instruction  or  first  lessons  con 
cerning  this  life  into  which  I  seemed  to 
have  entered,  until,  as  I  said,  the  first 
illustrations  and  the  instructions  formed 
for  me  but  one  perfect  lesson.  And 
when,  as  time  passed,  I  met  and  welcomed 
my  dear  sister,  my  husband  and  my  son, 
I  knew  the  other  side  of  the  question  — 
the  joy  that  came  even  to  the  angels  in 
heaven  when  they  welcomed  the  beloved 
'ones  who  came  to  them  from  the  world 


1NTEA    MUROS. 


85 


below.  And  so,  all  through  the  book, 
the  instruction  was  invariably  preceded 
by  the  illustration.  Thus  I  can  but 
think,  if  any  meaning  can  be  attached  to 
this  strange  vision,  that  it  is  simply  a  les 
son  in  a  general  way  of  what  we  may  ex 
pect  and  hope  for  when  wre  reach  the 
thither  shore. 

Again,  the  question  is  many  times  re 
peated,  "Does  this  ex 
perience  retain  its  viv 
idness  as  time  passes,  or 
does  it  grow  unreal  and 
dream-like  to  you?"  I 
•can  partially  forget 
some  of  the  happiest 
experiences  of  my 
earth  -  life,  but  time 
seems  only  to  intensify 
to  me  the  wonders  of 
those  days  when  my 
feet  really  stood  upon 
the  border-land  of  the 
two  worlds.  It  seemed 
to  me  that  at  every  step 
we  took  in  the  divine  life  our  souls  reached 
up  toward  something  better,  and  we 
had  no  inclination  to  look  behind  to  that 
which  had  passed,  or  to  try  to  solve  what 
in  our  mortal  life  had  been  intricate  or 
perplexing  questions  or  mysteries.  Like 
the  cup  that  is  filled  to  overflowing  at  the 
fountain  with  pure  and  sparkling  water, 
so  our  souls  were  filled  —  more  than 
filled  —  with  draughts  from  the  fountain 
of  all  good,  until  there  was  no  longer 


room  for  aught  else.  "  How  then,"  you 
ask,  "  could  you  reach  out  for  more,  when 
you  had  all  that  you  could  receive?"  Be 
cause  moment  by  moment,  hour  by  hour, 
our  souls  grew  and  expanded  and  opened 
to  receive  fresh  draughts  of  divine  in 
struction  which  was  constantly  lifting  us 
nearer  to  the  source  of  all  perfection. 
Some  of  the  letters  that  have  come  to  me 
have  been  so  pathetic  in 
their  inquiries,  that 
they  have  called  forth 
sympathetic  tears,  and 
an  intense  longing  to 
speak  with  authority 
upon  the  questions 
raised.  That  privilege 
God  has  not  given  me. 
I  can  only  tell  how  it 
seemed  to  me  in  those 
blissful  hours  w  h  e  11 
earth  seemed  remote 
and  heaven  very  near 
and  real.  One  suffer 
ing  mother  writes,  "  Do 
you  think  I  could  pray  still  for  my  darling 
girl?"  How  I  longed  to  take  her  in  sym 
pathetic  arms  and  whisper  to  her  that  the 
dear  child  of  her  love,  I  doubted  not,  was 
praising  God  continually  and  had  no 
longer  need  of  earthly  prayer.  She  loved 
and  trusted  the  Savior  as  she  went  down 
into  the  Valley  of  Shadows,  and  his  lov 
ing  arms  received  and  comforted  her. 
To  all  such  I  would  say  —  and  many 
are  the  letters  of  like  import  received: 


86 


IX TEA    MUEOS. 


"  Look  up,  dear  friends,  and  see  the 
loved  ones,  as  I  saw  those  so  dear  to  me, 
happy  and  blessed  beyond  all  human  con 
ception  in  the  house  of  many  mansions 
prepared  for  us  by  our  loving  Father."  Oh, 
those  wonderful  mansions  upon  which 
my  longing  heart  looks  back!  Believe  in 
them,  look  forward  to  them,  beloved 
friends,  for  we  have  the  Savior's  promise 
that  they  at  least  are  there:  "  In  my 
Father's  house  are  many  mansions."  His 
promises  never 
fail;  and  I  am 
sure  of  one 
thing  —  they 
will  not  be  less 
beautiful  than 
those  I  looked 
upon  in  my 
vision. 

This  thought,  to  me,  answers  in  a 
measure  the  questions  asked  in  regard  to 
dual  marriages.  My  own  belief,  of  this 
mortal  life,  is,  that  no  two  friends  can 
occupy  the  same  place  in  our  hearts. 
Each  heart  is  filled  with  chambers  stately 
and  old,  and  to  each  beloved  guest  is  as 
signed  a  chamber  exclusively  for  himself. 
That  room  is  always  his.  If  death,  or 
distance,  or  even  disgrace,  separates  him 
from  us,  still  the  room  is  his  and  his  only 
forever.  No  other  person  can  ever  oc 
cupy  it.  Others  may  have  rooms  equally 
choice,  but  when  a  guest  has  once  de 
parted  from  the  room  he  has  held  in  an 
other  heart,  the  door  of  that  room  is 


barred  forever;  it  is  held  inviolate  — 
sacred  to  the  departed  guest.  And  so,  in 
heaven,  each  guest  has  his  separate  room 
or  home.  "  In  my  Fathers  house  are 
many  mansions.  I  go  to  prepare  a  place 
(room)  for  you." 

I  am  no  advocate  of  second  marriages. 
The  thought  of  two  lives  alone  as  one,  is 
beautiful  to  me;  but  I  do  not,  all  the 
same,  believe  that  a  man  sins  against  the 
memory  of  a  wife  beloved  and  lost,  when 

he  places  by 
her  side  (not 
in  her  place)  a 
good  woman 


to  cheer  and 
brighten  h  i  s 
home.  She  can 
not,  if  she 
w  o  u  1  d,  take 
the  place  left  vacant  in  his  home  and 
heart;  it  is  inviolate.  I  speak,  of  course, 
of  true  marriages,  where  not  only  hands 
are  joined,  but  hearts  and  souls  are  knit 
together  as  one  forever. 

"  What  are  the  duties  of  heaven?"  So 
many  and  varied,  I  should  judge,  as  to 
make  the  question  unanswerable.  Much 
in  "  Intra  Muros "  shows  the  trend  of 
daily  life. 

"Rest?"  One  of  the  duties  as  well  as 
the  pleasures  of  heaven.  Rest  does  not 
of  necessity  mean  inactivity.  How  often 
in  this  life  does  laying  aside  one  duty 
and  taking  up  another  bring  rest  to  both 
mind  and  body!  Still,  as  I  found  it, 


1NTEA    MUKOS. 


87 


there  was  at  times  absolute  "  rest "  for 
both  mind  and  body  in  that  blissful  re 
pose  that  only  heaven  can  give. 

In  but  one  instance  of  the  manifold 
letters  received  was  any  feeling  produced 
in  their  perusal  except  that  of  pleasure 
and  gratitude  that  I  —  with  so  little 
physical  strength  of  my  own  —  could 
bring  comfort  and  pleasure  into  the  lives 
of  others.  I  thank  our  gracious  Father 
that  he  has  so  kindly  permitted  it.  The 
one  letter  to  which  I  refer  contains  so 
many  almost  puerile  inquiries,  that  I 


simply  laid  it  aside  with  a  quotation  from 
St.  Paul,  "Of  the  earth  earthy,"  and 
asked  the  Father  to  lift  the  heart  of  the 
writer  into  a  purer  light. 

In  conclusion  I  can  only  reiterate 
that  I  am  no  prophet,  I  am  no  seer;  but, 
in  my  inmost  soul,  I  honestly  believe  that 
if  the  joys  of  heaven  are  greater,  if  the 
glories  "  Within  the  Walls "  are  more 
radiant  than  I  in  my  vision  beheld  them, 
I  cannot  understand  how  even  the  im 
mortal  spirit  can  bear  to  look  upon  them. 

K.  E.  S. 


JESUS  THE  RESURRECTION  Now; 

OR,  OUR  LOVED  ONES  GIVEN  BACK  TO  US  HERE. 


BY  DAVID   C.  COOK. 


IFFEREXT  peo 
ple  have  different 
ideas  of  life  be 
yond  the  grave, 
but  there  are  few 
not  interested  in 
the  matter.  It  is 
said  that  more 
than  two  thou 
sand  books  have 
been  written  on 
this  subject  Almost  any  book  that  tries 
to  tell  us  about  it  finds  ready  purchasers. 
I  suppose  one  reason  for  this  is  that  peo 
ple  are  apt  to  be  more  interested  in  what 
is  coming  next  than  they  are  in  the  pres 
ent.  Some  have  asked,  "  Why  do  we  not 
know  more  about  what  is  to  be  here 
after?"  Perhaps  it  is  best  that  much  of 
it  should  be  kept  from  us.  I  fear  that 
if  we  knew  all,  we  would  lose  interest  in 
the  present  and  so  waste  its  opportunities. 
There  is  much  diversity  in  the  opinions 
of  those  who  claim  to  have  peered  into  the 
future.  There  is  also  great  difference  in 
the  views  expressed  by  people  who  have 
read  and  thought  much  about  it.  Some 
have  the  question  all  settled  in  their  own 
minds,  and  I  presume  are  quite  happy  in 
their  convictions.  The  majority  have 
vague  and  changing  ideas  —  which  per 
haps  is  more  fitting.  Xow  I  have  little 
desire  to  talk  to  you  directly  on  this  ques- 


tion,  but  on  one  closely  connected  with  it. 
If  what  I  say  shall  help  you  to  a  life  in 
this  world  such  as  will  make  joy  possible 
even  in  the  presence  of  death,  I  will  re 
joice  with  you. 

How  can  one  think  of  joy  when  a  loved 
one  has  been  snatched  away?  You  want 
your  loved  one  back.  A  part  of  you  has 
gone.  The  bouse  is  desolate.  The  heart 
is  broken.  Life  is  no  longer  the  same. 
Perhaps  you  say  that  I  cannot  know  any 
thing  about  death.  Yes,  I  do.  Xevcr 
shall  I  forget  the  first  terrible  sadness 
that  came  into  my  life  as  a  child  when  mv 
playmate  sister  was  taken  from  me  —  how 
the  wind  moaned  drearily  through  the 
oaks  all  that  long  October  day  —  nor  can 
I  forget  the  loneliners  which  followed. 
Yrears  later  my  baby  boy  went  from  us, 
and  with  him  faded  some  of  my  fondest 
earthly  dreams.  The  heavens  in  seeming 
sympathy  dropped  tears  through  all  the 
long  first  night,  as  I  looked  upon  the 
marble  face  and  fingers.  Xeither  shall  I 
forget  when  my  gray-haired  father,  the 
light  of  the  home,  closed  his  eyes  to  the 
scenes  of  earth.  Connected  with  death  is 
everything  that  is  sad  and  gloomy.  It  is 
the  culmination  of  our  fears  and  the 
blighting  of  hope,  for  we  say  that  only 
while  there  is  life  is  there  hope.  But 
there  is  another  side. 

In  trying  to  help  you  1  would  like  to 


83 


JESUS   THE  RESURRECTION  NOW. 


89 


talk  for  awhile  en  the  eleventh  chapter 
of  John.  I  feel  that  in  this  way  I  shall 
he  hotter  ahle  to  show  you  what  I  see 
but  dimly  though  assuredly.  This  chap 
ter  contains  the  story  of  the  sickness, 
death  and  raising  of  Lazarus.  Three  of 
Jesus'  most  loving  friends  lived  at  Beth 
any  —  Mary,  Martha  and  Lazarus.  Jesus 
often  made  his  home  with  them.  Per 
haps  to  none  was  he  nearer  and  dearer 
than  to  these  three.  It  was  that  Mary 
who  anointed  the  Lord  with  ointment 
and  wiped  his  feet  with  her  hair  —  a  deed 
of  tenderest  love  in  which  was  expressed 
the  hope  of  his  resurrection,  for  it  is  love 
that  gives  us  Jesus  hack  again, —  yes,  that 
keeps  him  ever  with  us. 

Once  while  Jesus  was  away,  a  trouble 
came  to  this  home.  The  brother,  prob 
ably  the  sole  support  of  the  family,  was 
taken  sick.  What  the  disease  was  we  do 
not  know,  but  the  sisters  felt  that  it  would 
prove  fatal  and  their  hearts  turned  toward 
Jesus  for  help.  A  messenger  was  sent  to 
him  saying:  "  He  whom  thou  lovest  is 
sick." 

Notice  the  words  of  the  message.  It 
was  not,  "  He  whom  we  love  is  sick,"  but 
"  He  whom  thou  lovest."  Their  own  care 
and  sorrow,  their  own  anxieties  and  fears, 
seem  forgotten.  It  wras  enough  for  them 
to  tell  Christ  that  one  whom  he  loved  wras 
in  danger. 

You  have  taken  a  sick  one  to  Jesus  in 
prayer.  Did  you  do  so  in  this  way,  or 
did  you  say,  "  My  child,  the  one  I  love,  is 
sick,  and  I  am  anxious  about  him"? 
Did  you  forget  Jesus'  love  for  your  dear 
one?  —  that  his  care,  his  anxiety,  was 
greater  than  yours  could  be?  Did  you 
think  of  your  loved  one  as  being  even 


more  truly  his  loved  one?  If  in  all  our 
prayers  to  him,  his  thought  and  care  for 
us,  and  his  interest  in  us,  were  upper 
most,  instead  of  our  own,  how  it  would 
increase  our  faith  and  trust,  and  give 
peace  and  confidence  in  the  issue! 

When  Jesus  heard  the  message,  he 
quieted  the  disciples'  fears  by  saying, 
"  This  sickness  is  not  unto  death,  but  for 
the  glory  of  God." 

"  Now  Jesus  loved  Martha,  and  her 
sister,  and  Lazarus.  When  he  heard 
therefore  that  he  was  sick,  he  abode  still 
two  days  in  the  same  place  where  he  was." 
Perhaps  in  your  trouble  you  have  turned 
to  Jesus,  but  he  did  not  come,  while 
others  who  called  upon  him  were  an 
swered  quickly.  Those  who  love  him 
most,  trust  him  most  fully.  To  such  he 
may  delay  coming,  that  through  the  delay 
he  may  bring  a  greater  joy  than  heal 
ing. 

"  Jesus  loved  Martha,  and  her  sister, 
and  Lazarus."  His  love  is  the  same  for 
all  —  he  does  not  select  a  certain  few  to 
love  more  than  others  —  but  it  is  only 
the  one  that  both  sees  his  love  and  re 
sponds  to  it  who  can  truly  say,  "  He  loves 
me." 

"  Then  after  that  faith  he  to  his  dis 
ciples,  Let  us  go  into  Judea  again."  He 
says  nothing  of  Bethany  or  of  Lazarus. 
"  His  disciples  say  unto  him,  Master,  the 
Jews  of  late  sought  to  stone  thee;  and 
goest  thou  thither  again?"  Possibly 
they  wondered  if  thoughts  of  impending 
danger  to  his  life  had  not  something  to 
do  with  his  failure  to  go  to  Lazarus  at 
once.  But  never  does  love  think  of  it 
self  when  danger  threatens  another.  It 
costs  Jesus  everything  to  be  everything 


90 


JESUS   THE   RESURRECTION  NOW. 


to  you  and  me;  "  I  lay  down  my  life  for 
the  sheep." 

Jesus'  reply  to  his  disciples  was:  "Are 
there  not  twelve  hours  in  the  day?  If 
any  man  walk  in  the  day,  he  stumbleth 
not,  because  he  seeth  the  light  of  this 
world."  He  that  walks  in  self-thought 
walks  in  the  night.  He  that  walks  in 
thought  of  others  walks  in  the  light  of 
heaven.  God  is  almighty  because  he  is 
Love. 

But  Jesus  must  explain  to  his  disciples 
his  errand.  It  is  proper  that  they  should 
know  of  Lazarus'  death  before  they  reach 
Bethany.  Notice  how  gently  he  breaks 
to  them  the  news,  for  they,  too,  love  Laz 
arus. 

First  he  says,  "  Our  friend  Lazarus 
sleepeth;  but  I  go,  that  I  may  awake  him 
out  of  sleep."  "  Our  friend  "  —  the  one 
we  all  love  — "  sleepeth,  and  I  go  to 
awake  him."  Though  they  think  of  one 
sleeping  as  taking  rest,  they  feel  that 
Jesus'  words  must  mean  something  more 
than  that  —  for  would  he  take  this  jour 
ney  to  awake  a  sleeper,  when  restful 
sleep  in  sickness  means  refreshment? 

Then  said  his  disciples,  "  Lord,  if  he 
sleep,  he  shall  do  well."  Sleep  resembles 
death,  yet  by  it  we  escape  death.  The 
patient  tosses;  the  fever  is  high;  the  sus 
pense  of  the  watchers  is  great.  Gradu 
ally  he  becomes  quiet;  he  drops  off  to 
sleep;  then  with  relief  we  say,  "  He  is 
sleeping." 

We  kiss  our  tired  loved  ones  good 
night.  As  they  sleep  we  listen  with 
pleasure  to  the  gentle,  regular  breathing. 
Yet  sleep  is  like  death,  the  calm  after  the 
excitement  of  the  day.  Then  when  those 
dear  ones  are  all  asleep,  we  turn  our 


heads  upon  our  pillow  and  sleep  also. 
As  in  death,  so  in  sleep  they  are  absent 
from  us;  but  we  see  them  sleep  without 
grieving,  because  at  any  time  we  may 
awake  them. 

"  I  go  that  I  may  awake  him."  It  was 
not  to  Jesus  that  Lazarus  slept,  but  to 
the  sisters'  and  the  disciples'  sense  of 
things.  Thus  these  words  were  for 
them.  To  them  he  would  awake  him. 
To  most  people  death  proves  a  barrier  of 
separation.  In  Christ  it  may  prove  to  us 
only  a  sleep,  for  Jesus  can  awake  for  us 
his  loved  one.  "  I  cannot  wake  my  mam 
ma!"  was  the  despairing  cry  that  burst 
from  a  child's  lips  in  the  presence  of 
death  for  the  first  time  —  the  child  who 
before  had  contentedly  looked  upon  his 
sleeping  mother,  because  he  knew  that  at 
any  time  he  wished  he  could  awake  her. 

Finally  Jesus  must  tell  them  that  Laza 
rus  is  dead.  How  hopefully  he  breaks 
the  news!  If  only  the  terrible  tidings  of 
death's  work  might  be  broken  in  such  a 
way  to  each  human  heart!  Only  "asleep," 
and  "  I  will  awake  him  for  you."  And 
why  should  it  not  be  so? 

"  Lazarus  is  dead.  And  I  am  glad  for 
your  sakes  that  I  was  not  there,  to  the 
intent  ye  may  believe."  Had  Jesus  been 
there  during  the  sickness,  he  would  have 
healed  Lazarus.  As  he  was  away,  appar 
ently,  he  could  now  do  a  better  thing. 
Perhaps  you  have  thought,  "  If  only 
Jesus  were  with  me  in  the  body,  as  he 
was  with  his  friends  in  the  long  ago,  how 
I  could  leave  with  him  every  care,  every 
worry!  And  how  truly  should  I  receive 
from  his  hands  the  fulfillment  of  every 
request!"  But  Jesus  says,  "  I  am  glad 
for  your  sakes  that  I  was  not  there,  to  the 


JESUS   THE  RESURRECTION  NOW. 


91 


intent  ye  may  believe."  But  more  espe 
cially  "  for  your  sake  " — because  there  is 
something  I  want  to  show  you,  something 
I  want  you  to  believe,  which  I  could  not 
have  shown  you  had  we  been  there.  If 
only  you  and  I  could  lovingly  trust  to  His 
plans  in  all  things,  we  should  always  find 
in  them  something  for  which  to  be  glad 
—  in  disappointments,  losses,  sicknesses, 
death.  Indeed,  the  seeming  worst  might 
mean  the  best. 

Now  the  little  company  has  reached 
Bethany.  This  is  a  small  village  near 
Jerusalem.  Many  friends  of  the  sisters 
and  of  Lazarus  are  there,  and  some  who 
are  not  friends.  Hired  mourners  are 
wailing,  as  is  the  custom  —  for,  in  the 
time  of  death,  of  all  times,  we  must  con 
form  to  usage.  Others  are  there  profess 
ing  grief,  within  whose  hearts  are  no 
thoughts  of  sorrow.  Jesus'  coming  is 
heralded  in  advance,  and  Martha  goes  to 
meet  him. 

Then  said  Martha  unto  Jesus,  "  Lord, 
if  thou  hadst  been  here,  my  brother  had 
not  died."  Her  first  words  have  an  "  if  " 
in  them.  Is  it  not  always  so  in  the  pres 
ence  of  death?  When  in  our  weakness 
we  have  done  our  best  we  say,  "  If  we  had 
employed  a  different  doctor!  If  we  had 
sent  for  the  doctor  sooner!  If  only  we 
had  done  this  or  that!"  How  useless  are 
all  such  thoughts  and  words,  and  often 
how  unjust  to  both  others  and  ourselves! 

But  Martha's  "  if  "  was  different  from 
most  of  these.  "  If  thou  hadst  been 
here."  Why?  Because  of  Jesus'  love 
for  Lazarus  she  felt  he  would  not  have 
let  him  die.  She  knew  the  heart  of  Jesus 
when  she  said  this,  and  undoubtedly  she 
read  it  aright.  Often,  however,  the  most 


trying  part  of  all  is  to  know  that  Jesus 
can  do,  and  yet  does  not  do,  that  which 
our  hearts  seem  to  tell  us  he  would  do  if 
he  loved  us.  Indeed  the  Christian  often 
feels  most  unkindly  toward  Christ  at  such 
times.  Safety  from  these  feelings  lies 
only  in  perfectly  self-forgetful  love  and 
confidence,  which  Martha  showed  when 
she  sent  the  message  saying,  "  He  whom 
thou  lovest  is  sick."  If  Jesus  loves  me 
perfectly,  he  also  loves  my  brother  as 
truly  as  I  love  him.  His  grief  is  as  my 
grief,  and  love  forgets  its  own  trouble  in 
thinking  of  the  sorrow  of  the  one  it 
loves. 

Such  love  gives  trust  that  makes  in 
finite  helpfulness  possible,  and  there  fall 
now  from  Martha's  lips  words  of  won 
drous  faith  and  confidence:  "  But  I 
know,  that  even  now,  whatsoever  thou 
wilt  ask  of  God,  God  will  give  it  thee." 
Perhaps  she  knew  that  Jesus  had  before 
raised  the  dead.  She  knew  at  least  that 
he  would  and  could  do  whatever  was  best. 
"  Whatsoever  thou  wilt."  It  is  not  a  pe 
tition.  She  does  not  ask  him  for  any 
thing.  Perfect  love  trusts  perfectly  and 
is  a  continually  restful  state.  This  is 
always  the  spirit  of  true  prayer.  It  looks 
to  Christ  to  do  as  he  wills.  It  knows  his 
love  and  trusts  it.  Such  an  one  Jesus 
can  and  always  does  comfort. 

"  Thy  brother  shall  rise  again."  Not, 
"  he  whom  I  love  shall  rise,"  but  "  thy 
brother."  Jesus  is  thinking  of  her  loss. 
"Rise  again!" -  —  this  is  merely  the  en 
couragement  given  to  all  believing  hearts, 
yet  the  words  have  a  new  meaning  from 
his  lips.  He  is  raising  her  hopes,  but 
must  raise  them  slowly,  for  sudden  joy 
will  hurt  as  surely  as  sudden  grief;  so  his 


92 


JESUS    THE   RESrRliECTION  NOW. 


first  words  convey  to  her  but  little  of 
what  he  has  to  tell. 

She  replies,  "  I  know  that  he  shall  rise 
again  in  the  resurrection  at  the  last  day.'' 
And  in  her  limit  no  doubt  she  added, 
"  But  it  is  a  long  time  until  then,  and  oh, 
how  I  need  my  brother!"  "  The  last 
day."  Oh,  the  spirit's  anguish  when  it 
feels  it  must  struggle  along  for  years, 
waiting  for  that  last  day,  the  day  of  resur 
rection!  If  with  Martha  we  can  say,  "  I 
know  that  whatsoever  thou  wilt  ask  of 
God,  God  will  give  it  thee,"  with  a  love 
equal  to  the  heart's  trust,  we  may  hear 
such  words  as  those  that  now  fell  from 
Jesus'  lips  —  words  that  would  hush  the 
world's  grief  to-day,  could  it  but  grasp 
them:  "Jesus  said  unto  her,  I  am  the 
resurrection  and  the  life;  he  that  believ 
eth  in  me,  though  he  were  dead,  yet  shall 
he  live;  and  whosoever  liveth  and  believ 
eth  in  me  shall  never  die." 

"  I  am  the  resurrection."  If  we  could 
but  cast  away  for  a  moment  all  our  fears, 
all  other  theories  and  beliefs  as  to  the 
future  world,  and  appropriate  to  ourselves 
his  words,  how  they  would  still  our 
anguish  at  such  times!  There  can  be  no 
doubt  that  Jesus  spoke  of  a  present  resur 
rection.  He  as  much  as  said  to  Martha: 
"  If  any  one  shall  have  faith  in  me  while 
alive,  he  shall  never  die  to  earth.  lie 
shall  never  see  death  for  himself.  And 
such  an  one  that  seems  dead  may  be  called 
back  to  earth-life."  It  told  of  something 
different  —  something  that  must  have 
meant  to  her  far  more  than  the  general 
resurrection.  When  she  spoke  of  the  gen 
eral  resurrection,  Jesus  assured  her  that 
was  not  what  he  meant.  Death  is  still 
an  unvanquished  fee  to  most  Christians. 


•'  The  last  enemy  that  shall  be  destroyed 
is  death."  Then  there  are  those  who 
shall  overcome  even  death.  I  wish  every 
Christian  might  do  so.  Try  to  grasp  the 
force  of  his  words:  Martha!  My  precious 
Martha!  1,  whom  you  love  and  trust,  "  I 
am  the  resurrection;"  there  is  no  last  day 
about  it.  "  I  am  the  life;"  there  is  no 
death  about  it.  Many  associate  God  with 
death,  or  think  of  death  as  his  agent,  but 
Jesus  pictures  himself  as  "  the  life." 

"  He  that  believeth  in  me,  though  he 
were  dead,"  (seems  to  you  dead)  "  yet 
shall  he  live,"  (or  yet  liveth  he).  And  to 
make  the  matter  still  plainer,  Jesus  adds, 
"  Whosoever  liveth  and  believeth  in  me 
shall  never  die."  "  Shall  never  die."  It 
is  from  the  sisters'  standpoint  that  he 
speaks.  He  proves  this  to  be  so  by  what 
he  is  soon  to  do  for  them.  And  besides, 
the  promise  is  to  all  who  believe,  for  he 
says,  "  Whosoever  liveth  and  believeth 
shall  never  die."  There  is  no  death, 
then,  to  the  true  believer.  Yes,  it  is  of 
a  never-dying  life  that  he  is  trying  to  tell 
her  —  of  this  there  can  be  no  question. 
What  then  of  death?  To  you  or  your 
loved  ones  may  it  be  as  sleep,  for  Christ 
can  awake  all.  His  own  cannot  die,  for 
he  is  life.  What  of  resurrection?  They 
have  him,  and  he  is  the  resurrection. 
Ever  alive  in  Jesus  —  yes,  not  even  asleep 
—  are  all  who  trust  him. 

"  Liveth  and  believeth."  Not  a  merely 
negative  belief.  True  living  means  a  life 
all  with  Jesus.  It  is  living  your  belief. 
Such  an  one  shall  never  die;  it  is  impos 
sible.  "  He  that  hath  the  Son  hath  life  " 
(truly).  Notice  the  circumstances  under 
which  these  last  words  to  Martha  were 
spoken.  It  was  only  a  few  days  before 


JESUS   THE  EESUREECTION  NOW. 


93 


the  speaker  should  himself  hang  upon  a 
cross  almost  in  sight  of  Bethany.  Did 
Christ  die?  Yes,  and  no.  His  enemies 
tauntingly  said,  "  He  saved  others;  him 
self  he  cannot  save."  The  centurion  pro 
nounced  him  dead.  His  friends  laid  his 
body  in  the  grave,  but  a  little  later  when 
they  looked  there  for  him,  they  found  him 
not.  To  us  he  seems  to  have  slept,  but 
he  that  awaketh  others  will  awake  himself 
for  us.  It  was  only  a  little  while  until 
Jesus  was  with  them  once  more.  "  He 
became  the  first  fruits  of  them  that  slept." 

"  Believesi  thou  this?"  The  words  of 
Jesus  were  too  much  for  Martha  to  grasp 
in  a  moment.  She  believes,  but  she  does 
not  understand;  yet  she  has  a  noble  an 
swer  for  him:  "Yea,  Lord;  I  believe 
that  thou  art  the  Christ,  the  Son  of  God, 
which  should  come  into  the  world."  The 
Son  of  God!  God  himself!  The  Mes 
siah!  We  may  not  understand,  yet  we 
may  believe. 

And  now  Martha's  thoughts  are  of  her 
sister;  she  will  cheer  Mary  by  bringing 
her  to  the  Master,  who  longs  to  see  her, 
for  Martha's  message  is:  "  He  calleth  for 
thee."  "  Then  when  Mary  wras  come 
where  Jesus  was,  and  saw  him,  she  fell 
down  at  his  feet,  saying  unto  him,  Lord, 
if  thou  hadst  been  here,  my  brother  had 
not  died."  The  loving  Mary  is  again  in 
love's  place,  where  she  may  clasp  the  feet 
of  him  whom  she  loves.  Long  has  she 
waited  for  him  —  for  him  who  alone 
can  make  all  right. 

Jesus  does  not  try  to  teach  Mary  by 
talking  to  her  as  he  has  done  to  her  sister 
Martha.  He  knows  her  heart.  Her 
tears  mean  more  than  words.  "  But  when 
Jesus  saw  her  weeping,  and  the  Jews  also 


weeping,  which  came  with  her,  he 
groaned  in  the  spirit  and  was  troubled." 
He  weeps  with  the  one  who  loves,  and 
she  who  loves  weeps  on  his  bosom. 
Jesus  is  troubled  in  my  troubles.  He 
groans  because  I  weep.  But  why  should 
Jesus  have  wept  when  he  was  about  to 
bring  joy?  It  could  not  have  been  a  pre 
tense.  He  weeps  with  us  to-day,  although 
knowing  that  he  will  bring  joy  out  of 
sorrow.  He  weeps  when  I  needlessly 
weep.  He  must  sorrow  with  me  in  order 
to  bring  joy.  He  must  suffer  in  order  to 
save,  and  I  must  bring  my  suffering  to 
him.  I  mrst  not  suffer  by  myself,  if  I 
would  reign  with  him  through  suffering 
and  over  it.  Only  as  he  is  one  with  me 
in  my  sleep  of  sorrow,  can  he  make  me 
one  with  him  in  joyful  awakening.  Only 
thus  can  he  change  dread  death  to 
thoughts  of  peace  —  sleep  —  awaking  for 
me,  as  I  will,  him  who  is  ever  awake  "to 
himself.  The  successful  physician  must 
enter  into  the  patient's  suffering;  the  par 
ent  must  suffer  with  the  child  to  bring  it 
back  to  health  again;  the  nurse  must  put 
loving  sympathy  into  her  work.  Jesus, 
the  Captain  of  our  salvation,  "  is  made 
perfect  through  suffering"  (Heb.  2:  10). 
He  can  save  fully  because  he  suffers 
fully. 

"  Jesus  wept."  The  shortest  verse  in 
the  Bible!  Only  two  words,  but  words 
that  mean  so  much  to  every  sorrowing 
heart!  As  lie  wept  with  them,  so  would 
he  weep  with  me.  My  loved  one  is  his 
loved  one.  My  sorrow  is  his.  Have 
these  words  painted'.  Place  them  where 
you  can  always  see  them.  Hang  them 
low,  that  the  eyes  may  light  upon  them 
when  the  head  is  bowed  down  with  sad- 


94 


JESUS   THE  RESURRECTION  NOW. 


ness.  It  is  right  to  weep  if  we  weep 
aright.  Joy  is  not  expressed  in  smiles 
alone;  there  is  joy  in  tears.  It  was 
through  tears  that  Mary  Magdalene  saw 
what  the  other  women  failed  to  see  — 
her  Christ.  Even  though  my  weeping  be 
a  weakness,  Jesus  weeps  with  me  —  "  for 
he  knoweth  my  frame"  (Ps.  103:  14). 
But  how  careful  should  I  be  not  to  cause 
him  needless  weeping,  needless  sorrow,  by 
my  weeping!  Every  blow  that  falls  on 
me  smites  him.  Every  arrow  that  pierces 
me  must  first  pierce  him,  yea,  pass 
through  him  to  pierce  me. 

But  Jesus'  tears  were  regarded  dif 
ferently  by  different  persons.  Some  ex 
claimed,  "  Behold,  how  he  loved  him!" 
Others  said,  "  Could  not  this  man,  which 
opened  the  eyes  of  the  blind,  have  caused 
that  even  this  man  should  not  have 
died?"  Why  should  Infinite  Love  open 
some  eyes  and  close  others?  Why 
should  my  only  darling  be  taken  away, 
the  one  whom  I  need  so  much,  while  an 
other,  friendless  and  alone,  longing  for 
death,  is  left  to  drag  on  a  seemingly  use 
less  life?  Either  Jesus'  love  for  Lazarus 
cannot  be  genuine,  or  else  the  power 
claimed  by  him  is  a  pretense.  How  many 
a  Christian  has  lost  his  faith  in  God  at 
such  times  as  this  — faith  in  his  love, 
faith  in  his  power,  yes,  faith  even  in  his 
existence.  Such  thoughts  may  come  to 
a  heart  that  knows  not  Jesus  —  it  is  not 
the  sisters  who  murmur. 

Jesus  said,  "Where  have  ye  laid  him? 
They  said  unto  him,  Lord,  come  and  see." 
If  Jesus  is  to  bring  your  lost  one  to  you, 
you  must  take  the  Master  to  the  place 
where  to  you  he  now  is.  We  brood  alone 
over  our  absent  ones.  If  Jesus  is  with 


you  in  thoughts  of  them,  as  he  liveth  with 
you  so  may  they  also  live  with  you. 

He  "  cometh  to  the  grave.  It  was  a 
cave,  and  a  stone  lay  upon  it.  Jesus  said, 
Take  ye  away  the  stone.  Martha,  the  sis 
ter  of  him  that  was  dead,  saitli  unto  him. 
Lord,  by  this  time  he  stinketh."  It 
seemed  too  late  for  help.  Jesus  bad 
never  before  raised  one  so  long  dead.  It 
is  said  the  Jews  believed  that  for  three 
days  the  spirit  hovered  around  the  body, 
but  the  fourth  day  it  departed  never  to 
return.  There  are  always  physical  ob 
stacles  in  the  way  of  faith.  So,  too,  with 
us;  we  bring  Christ  to  where  we  have  laid 
our  loved  one,  yet  not  entirely.  When  we 
try  to  trust,  it  seems  too  late  for  his 
blessings.  But  nothing  stands  in  the  way 
of  his  doing  for  those  who  trust  him  com 
pletely. 

"  Jesus  saitli  unto  her.  Said  T  not  unto 
thce,  that,  if  thou  wouldest  believe,  thou 
shouldest  see  the  glory  of  God?"  Be 
lieving  and  seeing!  Will  you  believe 
Jesus  fully  and  entirely?  Then  you  shall 
see  his  glory  for  yourself.  Only  com 
plete,  loving  trust  can  see  his  glory; 
others  know  it  not. 

But  notice!  What  did  they  see? 
Was  it  a  grand  procession  of  heavenly 
beings  with  celestial  harps,  praising  God? 
Was  it  a  million  worlds  passing  in  review 
before  him  in  perfect  harmony  and  order? 
Was  it  a  display  of  wondrous  power  or 
grandeur  of  any  kind?  No.  Simply  the 
bringing  back  to  life  of  a  poor  scribe  of 
Bethany;  the  healing  of  two  broken 
hearts.  What  then  can  be  meant  by  this 
"  glory  of  God  "?  It  is  the  opposite  of 
all  earthly  glory.  God  is  love  —  and 
what  is  the  glory  cf  love?  It  is  the  glory 


JESUS   THE  RESURRECTION  NOW. 


95 


of  being  everything  to  his  creatures.  His 
glory  is  not  to  kill,  but  to  give  life. 
Jesus  is  a  life-giver,  for  Jesus  is  Life. 
Some  sickness  is  not  unto  death,  but  unto 
the  glory  of  God. 

But  now  before  he  raises  Lazarus  from 
the  grave  he  lifts  up  his  eyes,  those  tear- 
dimmed  eyes,  and  says:  "  Father,  I  thank 
thee  that  thou  hast  heard  me."  The 
prayer  was  in  secret.  The  thanks  are 
given  publicly.  He  gives  thanks  before 
those  about  him  see  that  he  has  been  an 
swered.  The  prayer  of  trusting  faith 
knows  its  answer  in  advance.  When  did 
the  Father  hear  and  answer  him?  Was 
it  just  before  coming  to  the  grave,  when 
be  said,  "  Where  have  ye  laid  him?" 
Was  it  when  he  said  to  the  disciples, 
"  Lazarus  sleepeth,  and  I  go  to  awake 
him"?  Or  was  it  when  he  declared, 
"  This  sickness  is  not  unto  death,  but 
for  the  glory  of  God  "?  Prayer  is  a  state 
of  constant  looking  to  God  in  trust,  rather 
than  of  seasons  of  petitions  and  answers. 

"And  I  knew  that  thou  hearest  me  al 
ways:  but  because  of  the  people  which 
stand  by  I  said  it,  that  they  may  believe 
that  thou  hast  sent  me."  Because  of 
others  we  thank  him.  Public  thanksgiv 
ing  is  necessary.  Prayer  were  often  bet 
ter  in  private. 

"  A  loud  voice."  Loud,  so  that  those 
about  would  bear  it.  Jesus  fears  no  dis 
appointment  to  his  call.  The  same  voice 
that  before  showed  grief  now  speaks  with 
power  and  confidence.  Many  a  time 
have  the  names  of  lost  loved  ones  been  on 
our  lips,  as  vainly  we  called  them  to  come 
back.  Wherever  they  are,  they  are  not 
out  of  reach  of  Jesus.  To  him  they  ever 
live.  Gcd  is  not  the  God  of  the  dead,  but 


of  the  living  —  all  living.  You  are 
r.slecp  —  dreaming  of  other  things;  a 
thousand  sounds  from  without  fall  un 
heeded  on  the  ear,  but  a  loved  one's  voice 
calls  —  it  may  be  a  low  tone  —  and  you 
awake  instantly.  Love  ever  answers  to 
the  call  of  the  one  it  loves.  A  Xorthern 
soldier  boy  lay  dying  in  a  Southern  hos 
pital.  The  mother  heard  of  it.  She 
would  reach  him  in  some  way.  A  pass 
from  the  President  places  her  beyond 
the  lines  of  the  Northern  army.  Her 
story  passes  her  through  the  ranks  of  the 
enemy  and  to  her  boy.  "  He  has  but  a 
little  while  to  live,"  the  doctor  tells  her. 
"  He  would  not  know  you.  He  has  not 
known  any  one  for  the  last  three  days. 
You  had  better  not  go  in.  It  may  hasten 
his  death."  But  the  mother's  pleading 
wins  her  a  place  beside  her  boy.  It  is 
only  one  word,  spoken  just  above  a  whis 
per,  "  Charley!"  But  the  mother  speaks 
it.  There  is  life  and  healing  in  the  voice. 
Death  is  robbed  of  its  victim. 

This  is  Jesus'  last  miracle  as  recorded 
by  John.  The  first  was  at  a  wedding  — 
at  the  beginning  of  home  life,  when  all 
was  cheer.  The  other  is  when  death  is 
in  the  home  and  all  is  sadness.  How 
often  have  we  contrasted  the  awful  pres 
ent  with  the  care-free  past  when  our 
home  life  first  began!  But  he,  the  Christ, 
is  sufficient  for  our  joys  and  our  griefs, 
and  he  would  be  one  with  us  in  both. 

Some  have  thought  that  Jesus  raised 
Lazarus  to  show  his  power.  But  all  that 
Jesus  did  for  human  hearts  he  did  in  com 
passion.  Frequently  is  this  word  "  com 
passion  "  coupled  with  his  healing  and 
helping.  To  do  for  the  express  purpose 
of  attracting  eyes  to  himself  would  have 


95 


JESUS   THE  RESURRECTION  NOW. 


been  self-thought  and  self-glory.  Jesus' 
motive  was  always  the  motive  of  love.  It 
showed  his  true  glory  —  the  glory  of  love. 
It  showed  the  Father.  John  says, 
"  These  signs  were  done  that  ye  might 
believe."  Yes,  so  that  all  might  believe 
and  be  helped,  even  as  were  the  sisters; 
so  that  to-day  we  might  be  led  —  your 
heart  and  mine  —  to  believe  and  trust 
him  to  the  uttermost.  It  is  not  enough 
that  Christ  comforts  one  Martha  or  one 
family;  his  love  must  take  in  all.  If  it 
had  been  alone  for  them,  why  should  he 
say,  "Whosoever  believeth"?  Are  you 
all-alive  in  Jesus?  As  you  love  him  you 
live  in  him.  Death  only  brings  our 
loved  ones  closer  to  him.  Do  you  truly 
believe  this?  Is  Jesus  alive  with  you? 
Is  he  alive  with  your  loved  ones?  If  so, 
v.'hy  is  not  the  link  complete?  Why 
need  death  separate  you  from  any  who 
know  both  Christ  and  you? 

As  his  last  miracle,  it  is  fitting  that  this 
should  be  the  crowning  one  of  all  —  one 
showing  him  all-sufficient  in  all  our  sor 
rows  and  needs.  The  life  here  is  the  only 
life  I  have  now.  Jesus  came  to  reveal 
himself  as  sufficient  for  this  life.  If  he 
could  not  be  everything  to  me  here,  I 
might  doubt  his  being  everything  to  me 
anywhere.  If  I  do  not  need  him  to  be 
everything  to  me  here,  will  I  in  heaven? 
Yet  the  Bible  teaches  that  he  is  the  cen 
ter  in  thought  of  heaven — the  Light  of  it. 

There  may  be  few  who  have  in  the 
night  of  bereavement  so  truly  clung  to 
Jesus  as  the  Resurrection  and  the  Life 
that  it  was  to  them  a  night  of  rest,  know 
ing  that  he  would  call  the  loved  one 
whenever  wanted;  but  there  have  been 
some.  Others  have  found  him  mindful, 


as  the  sisters  did,  after  days  of  patient 
waiting.  But  many  know  nothing  of 
that  communion  which  he  gladly  gives  to 
those  who  can  receive  it.  I  do  not  allude 
to  dreams,  nor  yet  to  spirit-visitations, 
such  as  comes  to  those  whose  minds  are 
overwrought  with  nervous  unrest,  but  to 
a  living,  wide-awake  communion,  possible 
to  loving  hearts  which  rest  in  him. 

Have  you  learned  thus  to  live  with 
Jesus?  Has  he  become  to  you  nearest 
and  dearest  of  all?  Do  you  love  others 
only  as  associated  with  him?  Do  you 
express  his  love  with  yours?  Is  he  ever 
interwoven  in  your  thought  of  others? 
Are  you  always  thinking  of  his  care,  his 
love,  his  anxiety,  for  each  one  whom  you 
love?  and  do  you  remember  that  he  must 
suffer  when  trouble  comes  to  such,  and 
also  that  he  must  rejoice  in  their  joy? 
Then  do  not  worry  if  death  comes,  for 
none  who  believe  in  him  shall  ever  die. 
To  you  their  dying  need  be  only  a  sleep. 

If  you  have  not  yet  begun  to  live 
aright,  if  Jesus  is  not  yet  everything  to 
you,  or  if  your  loved  ones  do  not 
love  him  —  what  then?  Begin  now. 
Open  the  whole  heart  to  him.  Nothing 
but  your  own  will  stands  in  the  way  of 
your  coming  into  this  changed  relation 
ship.  Ere  you  have  long  been  there, 
perhaps  those  whom  you  love  will  have 
found  out  your  secret  and  also  have  en 
tered  the  Charmed  Life.  At  least  it  will 
place  you  where  you  can  ever  work  to 
gether  with  God  in  the  lives  of  those 
about  you. 

May  you  learn  truly  to  see  "  the  glory 
of  God  "  in  Jesus  until  it  brings  to  you  a 
present  resurrection  of  buried  hopes  and 
a  life  all  joy  in  him. 


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